Ride the Lightning (WormDC Crossover)
by The Coffee Guru
Summary: Alt Power Taylor has a power from DC Comics. Butterflies ensue.
1. Spark 1

Welcome to "Ride the Lightning", my first attempt at Worm fan fiction and the first writing project I've given myself in several years. In this story our protagonist takes a slightly different path. As the title implies, lightning is involved. This is a sort-of DC cross over, in that I am taking a well established DC concept and character archetype and letting it have its way with the QA shard. Butterflies happen.

While everything will be explained in time, if you feel left out of the loop, please feel free to google "Speed Force." Velocity will be found crying in the corner.

 **Ride The Lightning**

Spark 1.1

The smell should have tipped me off. Still, considering how easy things have been since winter break, I guess I'm not as vigilant as I used to be. Opening the door to my locker I was hit in the face by it, a rancid stench that made my eyes water and bile rise up in my throat. I stood there dumbstruck, something about the sight just refused to make sense. I think I was a moment away from losing it when I noticed the noise around me drop… never a good sign. I turned to look behind me and had a half second to react, jumping to my left as Sophia rushed past be, head first into the locker. The unearthly quality that had been surrounding me broke. Suddenly the hall was full of noise. Emma gasping, Maddison making a little I'm-not-sure-if-I should-be-laughing titter, the teeming masses of students who had stopped to see the spectacle resuming their trek towards class. For her part, Sophia was pulling herself from the locker, rotten….. tampons stuck to her hands. She looked down at her hands, then turned to look at me. For the first time in my life I think I understood what it looked like when someone has murder in their eyes. Dropping my bag, I ran.

—

 _Someplace else_

The part is immense. The whole more so. Drifting through the void measurements are made.

 _Target found._

 _Compatible?_

 _Agreement._

 _Trajectory?_

 _Locked On._

In the infinite of existence, there are always more elsewheres. In the distant space through which the shard began to fall reality vibrated. Quantum foam surged and frothed before space itself….. broke.

 _Error! Error!_

 _Nature?_

 _Unknown. Foreign Energy detected._

 _Abort?_

 _Too Late. Committed to Trajectory._

And in space, lightning flashed.

— _-_

I was running as hard as I could. Behind me Sophia was gaining. The fact that she hadn't already caught me was either a miracle, or the mess in my locker had made her sicker than I thought. I braved a look over my shoulder as I cleared the school parking lot. Yep, Sophia clearly had vomit on her shirt. Shit, she stopped to throw up and was still gaining on me. Panting I faced forward and opened up the last of my reserve until

CRASH

I tripped over the curb and hit the ground.

Hard.

Shit that hurt. Getting to my feet, realizing that even the slim hope I had of getting away was now gone, I thought I would try pleading.

"Sophia," I began.

I didn't finish though. Though the sky was clear, the air brisk, there was a flash of light, an intense heat, a feeling of explosion. Then there was nothing.

—

"Fucking Hebert, I'm going to fuck you up."

Sophia ran after the waste of space that was her and Emma's project. Not sure what she would do when she caught her, she didn't run as fast as she could. The more distance from the school the better really. As she ran through the possibilities Hebert proved what a klutz she was by tripping on a curb. Sophia couldn't help but laugh at the image.

And now the girl was getting up, looking for all the world like she was going to stop and beg. Pathetic.

"Sophia," she began.

She didn't finish though. Out of the clear blue sky a bolt of lightning came down and blasted the girl. Thunder sounded and even Sophia jumped. She watched as Hebert was blown out of her shoes, flying back about 10 feet through the air before hitting the ground in a heap and not moving.

"Look at that, even God thinks you're a fucking waste."

As tempting as just walking away was, there were witnesses around. Sophia took out her cell phone and dialed 911.

On the ground, Taylor Hebert lay unmoving while inside of her the lightning began to spark.


	2. Spark 2

Ride the Lightning

Spark 1.2

I woke up feeling stiff. The room was dark, quiet except for a regular beeping noise. Looking over the side of the bed I saw a…. heart monitor? I was in a hospital bed. Sliding up into a sitting position I felt something tug painfully at my elbow. An IV? A sharp tug and a look under the blanket showed me another tube, leading to a bag hanging off the side of the bed. A … pee tube? I didn't know the technical term for it, but I'm pretty sure you don't get one unless something goes really wrong for a long period of time. What happened to me?

The background beeping started to get faster. I think I was starting to panic a little, the heart monitor was speeding up. 120 beats per minute….. 145 beats per minute….. 160 beats per minute… that seems like a bit much. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind then an alarm started going off. The door to my room opened and a man in hospital scrubs walked in. The man came to a stop when he saw me sitting up. I gave him a little wave and, in a weak voice said, "Hi."

—

It's amazing how much can happen in an hour. Take the last one for instance; since I woke up I have been visited by four different doctors, eaten a cup of jello, had blood drawn and got to go to the bathroom like a real person. Now I sat in the bed and watched the door waiting for someone familiar. And sure enough, there he was. Visible through the window in the door, I saw my dad.

The door opened and my dad stepped into the room, stopping as he saw me.

"Hey Kiddo."

Dad… did not look good. It was like the last month had aged him by ten years. Always a thin man, his skin still managed to hang loosely from his face, a rough beard covering him jaw. Licking dry lips, he spoke again in that shaky voice.

"Taylor, think your up for giving your old dad a hug?"

"Of course Dad," I whispered, opening my arms. In the blink of an eye he had crossed the room and crushed me against his chest.

"I thought I was going to lose you kiddo. If I had, I don't know… I'm glad you're ok."

Shrugging out of the hug, I gave my dad a minute to compose himself before trying to broach the elephant in the room.

"So Dad, can you tell me exactly what is going on? All I've got so far is that I got hit by lightning, then coma, then now."

Dad ran his fingers through his hair while he composed his thoughts.

"Well Taylor, that is actually a pretty good run down. The short answer is that they aren't really sure. We know that you were not in school when the lightning struck. As far as the coma goes, the neurologist said it's not unheard of for lightning strike survivors to end up in a coma. Apparently lightning can really mess up how your brain sends and receives signals and sometimes you just kind of…. sleep until everything resets."

"Any idea on how much longer I'll be here?" A month or, from my perspective, an hour, was already long enough as far as I was concerned. My kingdom for some underpants.

"A few days at least. They are going to want to do some scans, watch you to make sure you don't develop seizures or some other disorder," Dad answered with a sheepish roll of his shoulders.

A pause.

"Taylor," he began again, "can you tell me why you were down the street from the school? When you were hit was a couple of minutes after the first bell, by all rights you should have been in class."

I thought back on that morning, or at least I tried to. I could remember heading to school but then….. nothing.

"Sorry Dad but no, I can't think of a reason why. When I try to remember that morning I can see myself getting on the bus, see myself getting off the bus and walking into the school. After that? Nothing. It's like there's some white fog obscuring everything."

The heart monitor beeping sped up again.

"It actually scares me a little."

Dad put his hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry Taylor, I'm sure we will get it all sorted."

***********Authors Note***************

Ack. I hate this. Making people talk is hard. Still I feel like these are needed scenes. Skipping from lightning strike to ZOMGSUPERPOWERS?! would be kind of a big skip.

Soon my pretty, soon.


	3. Spark 3

Ride the Lightning

Spark 1.3

Home.

Home home home home home.

Home.

Coming home was everything I wanted it to be. My "few days for observation" at the hospital had turned into a full blown week. Sitting on my bed I let myself flop backwards, head hitting pillow. Closing my eyes I took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. A week.

 **Monday**

I lay on a cold table in front of a metal donut. From behind a glass screen a cool voice calls out.

"Taylor can you hear me?"

I nod.

"Good. This is Becky, the CT tech. In just a moment the table you are on will slide back through the scanner behind you. It's important that you remain as still as possible so we get a good image capture. Do you think you can do that for me?"

I nod again. Honestly after a month long coma, you would think they would be assured of my ability to lie still on a flat surface.

"Great! This scan should only take 20 minutes, so just relax and we will get started."

As the table I'm on begins to slide back I manage not to jump… mostly. Gritting my teeth I go still.

 _2 hours later_

"Sorry for the hassle Taylor, but we will need to try this again in a few days."

I can tell by her tone of voice that Becky is a bit frustrated.

"What's wrong?"

The CT tech takes a moment to compose herself.

"I can't get a clean image. Don't worry, not your fault at all. Trust me, after the third scan I had eyes on you and you were completely still. The scans though….. completely out of focus, full of artifact. We will have to shut down the imager and have it recalibrated.

 **Tuesday**

I was wheeled into what could only be described as a gym. Waiting for me was a mountain with a face and a name tag. The face was kind, the tag read "Robbie." Smiling down at me, Robbie reached out his hand for a shake.

"And you must be Taylor."

When I shook his hand and nodded the mountain of a man continued.

"My name is Robbie and my job is to make you hate me."

This was said with the same level of upbeat enthusiasm that one would expect from Sesame Street. My look of confusion was evidently enough to spur Robbie to elaborate.

"This is physical therapy. Now I know you're a teenager and are evolutionarily designed to sleep all day everyday, but a month flat on your back without waking, walking, sitting, writing…. well it can play havoc on everything from your ability to walk to your ability to hold a pencil. With that in mind, today we are going to do a general assessment of your physical capabilities, note any deficits, and come up with a plan of action to get you back in pre-coma shape. You will visit me one more time before you are discharged so we can make sure you are comfortable with the program we develop, ok?"

Argh, exercise. Still, it might be nice to actually get some pointers from someone outside of a school mandated gym class.

"Sure, I'm game. What's up first coach?"

Smiling, Robbie gestured to a pair of parallel wooden railings.

"Great attitude. We are going to start with the big stuff and work our way down. It may seem backwards, but just from watching you move your arms around, how you manipulate that wheel chair, let's just say I'm not too worried about your fine motor skills as much at the moment."

Robbie walked behind me as he talked, taking the handles of my chair in hand and wheeling me between the bars. One in position he locked the wheels and walked back around to my front. Reaching up, he grasped a harness I noticed for the first time. It was attached to the ceiling by a cable. A peddle on the floor allowed him to pull slack from the line.

"What we are going to do here is pretty simple. I'll help you slip this harness on and then, with me using some counter weights, we are going to get you on your feet. I'll then decrease the counter weight and we will see how able you are to stand on your own. Then I'll have you walk back and forth using the bars here for support. Don't worry if you can't do much without relying on the counter weight, from what your father said during our interview, I know you were not that athletic pre-coma, so any loss you experienced can be expected to be more noticeable than if you had carried significant muscle."

It took me a moment to think my way through that.

"Um, ok. I think I understand."

Getting the harness on took about a minute. While this was going on someone else came into the room, a young girl, also in scrubs. She was pretty, with dark skin and hair cropped close to her scalp. Taking note of my having taken note, Robbie made introductions.

"This is Janelle, she will be assisting us today."

Janelle gave me a smile as she moved behind the wheel chair and took hold of the handles.

Robbie gave the harness a final tug to make sure it was good and secure. Apparently satisfied, he backed up and moved his foot to another peddle.

"Ok Taylor, here is how this will go. Reach up with each arm and grab the railings. I'll press this peddle which will start to retract the cable attached to your harness. Janelle will pull the chair out from under you once you are in a standing position, but will remain on hand to put it right back if you need it. I want to stress, you WILL NOT fall down. The cable will automatically lock should you drop more than 2 inches. That said, if you feel like you need to sit down, please tell me. We are here to assess you today, not push you."

Again with that grin.

"Pushing you comes tomorrow."

 _2 hours later_

"Ok Taylor I think that's enough."

Between easy breaths I called out from the treadmill.

"Are you sure? I feel like I could keep this up all day!"

Muffled though my answer was, Robbie clearly heard me. Reaching over, he pressed a button which forced the treadmill into a cool down mode. As I slowed to a brisk walk, Janelle began unhooking me. Off came the wires which were reading my heart rate, the breathing mask measuring my oxygen consumption, the temperature sensor, and a few other wires and stickers that I'm pretty sure Robbie stuck on me out of sheer frustration.

As I stepped off the treadmill I gave Robbie a grin.

"Sorry about messing up your plan. I really don't know why I'm doing so well."

Robbie looked over a print out before addressing me.

"Well that makes two of us. Instead of weakness you are showing remarkable endurance. You just ran the equivalent of 6 miles in under an hour. Oxygen usage is low, blood glucose is normal, heck girl, you're hardly sweating. As far as I can tell, you have zero muscle atrophy."

Those words kept repeating in my mind as I walked (yay being allowed to walk on my own) into the little shower room. I bit my lip as I undressed. Alone as I was, I stepped in front of a floor to ceiling mirror and tried to wrap my mind around what I saw. Robbie was not wrong. Not only had my muscles not wasted away….. I was ripped. Covered in lean, defined muscles. Corded legs, 6 pack abs, rounded shoulders, the works.

What the hell happened to me?

 **Wednesday**

Nothing scheduled for today. I have to stay in the hospital until tomorrow, that is when the CT machine will be ready for another round of 'Scan Taylor's Brain'. Dad came by today with a couple of books for me to read. So far he hasn't mentioned school or school work to me. I'm ok with that. From my perspective I have only been gone for a few days, and the break from the bullying has been nice. I'm actually a little put out that I actually got out of almost 5 weeks worth of bullying but didn't get to actually experience the reprieve.

I waited until Dad left before starting on my books. He managed to get the day off and spent the entire block of visiting hours with me. It was…. nice. While he still seems more stressed out than normal, he smiled more today. Still the nurse came by promptly at 8:00pm to escort him out. Signing as the door to my room closed, I cracked open the first book. The story was good, if a little long. When I finished the book I closed and put it on the side table, surprised that I wasn't more tired. Looking at the clock on the wall I felt my breath hitch.

I had started reading at about 8:02pm. Having finished the book, I expected to find myself looking a the wrong side of 3:00am. Instead I was looking at 8:05…..pm. I clicked on the tv and went to the guide channel. 8:05am. Opening the book to the last page I noted with surprise that, in the span of three minutes I had read 761 pages. Cover to cover, start to finish.

A thought occurred to me. A huge, monumental thought. I couldn't bring myself to face it yet.

Trust, but verify.

I picked up the second book and flipped to the back. 630 pages. I looked at the clock, 8:07pm. Turning to the first page I began to read as fast as I could. When I hit page 630 I slammed the book closed and looked at the clock. 8:08pm.

My name is Taylor Hebert, and I'm a Parahuman.

 **Thursday**

I must have been more tired than I thought last night. I went to sleep thinking that I had the lamest super power ever, Super Speed Reading. Today's trip to CT Scan 2: Electric Boogaloo changed my mind on that subject.

"Taylor can you hear me?"

I nodded.

"Good. I'm sure you remember the procedure from Monday. Just stay as still as possible and we will get this scan knocked out as quickly as we can."

I gave Becky the CT tech a thumbs up. The table began to slide me back towards the scanner.

 _20 Minutes Later_

"I'm sorry Mr. Hebert, but we just can't get a clean scan on Taylor."

Dr. Radcliffe, apparently the chief Radiologist, was trying to explain to my dad why the machine wasn't working, but why we were still going to be billed. My dad was… less than understanding.

"If the machine is broken, why would we pay?" The vein in dad's forehead was throbbing again.

Taking a breath, Dr. Radcliffe began again.

"The problem isn't the machine Mr. Hebert. After the anomaly on Monday we had it recalibrated by one of the manufactures certified technicians. IT has worked perfectly for every patient scanned yesterday and today. The only time there is a problem is when we attempt to scan Taylor. For some reason we always get movement artifact. It's honestly like she's vibrating throughout the entire scan."

My dad sighed, an all together too familiar defeated look settling on his face.

"Fine, just….. fine. What else do we need to do?"

 _That night_

Back in my room I thought about the repeated CT exams. From what Becky had been saying, even though I was laying perfectly still (at least from my perspective), the scans all read like I had been moving. Tiny movements, but really fast. She said it sort of reminded her of when she had been halfway through a scan and a patient had started having a seizure, just way more subtle. What caught my attention though was her reference to moving really fast.

Making sure the door to my room was closed I put my back to the door and faced the window. On the sill were the books Dad had left me. I decided that I would run across the room and grab one, running back as fast as I could. Bracing myself for the rush of speed, I RAN!

They say all actions are clear when reviewed. They are right. From my perspective I ran across the room, picked up a book, and ran back. I have no idea how fast I was, because no one was watching me. For take two I would watch the second hand on the wall clock. This would probably slow me down a little, as the clock was above the door, so I would have to start facing it, turn and run across the room and back, then note the second hand again. Getting back in my starting position I noted the clock:

10:07:05

 **I RAN**

Across the room, pick up a book, run back, look at clock.

10:07:05

 **Friday**

"Good news kiddo! We're going home today."

I guess he was trying to surprise me. The fact that I met him at the door to my hospital room with packed bags and dressed in street clothes took some of the wind from his sails, but he persevered.

"So…. I take it you're ready to go now?"

"Yes Dad, now is good."

I fairly vibrated with my excitement. Hmmmm, I would need to keep an eye on that.

 **Now**

I opened my eyes, still laying on my bed. I took a slow breath in, then let it out.

"I'm going to be a Hero."

*********Authors Note***********

Originally intended to stretch her realization out over the course of the week in the hospital, but I decided that, given the nature of speed force super speed, she would find out sooner. I went with the reading as opposed to the treadmill for the reveal because 1) Taylor at this point is not a runner, so didn't really try to run as fast as she could. That said, 2) Taylor *IS* a reader, and will devour books.


	4. Spark 4

Ride the Lightning

Spark 1.4

I've been home from the hospital for a couple of days now. To be honest, I should have expected this conversation sooner.

"Taylor, we really need to start talking about school."

Looking up from my french toast I gave Dad a pleading look.

"Do we have to? It's been kind of nice just… ignoring it. If we ignore it long enough, maybe it will just go away?"

A sheepish grin and puppy dog eyes are my best shot at sealing this deal. Sadly, Dad doesn't bite. Folding up his paper and laying it on the table, Dad switches to serious mode.

"Sadly Kiddo, that's not how the world works. I've spoken to the school and, while missing 5 weeks worth of classes is a big deal, it's not so big that we don't think you can catch up."

I'm about to protest when he pushes forward.

"Let me lay out the plan before you shoot it down, ok? We will head up to the school on Wednesday and meet with the Principle. While there you will take a test for each of your classes so they can gauge how far behind you are. Based on those tests you will either be invited back into your regular classes, or they will recommend a tutor to try and catch you up so you can do end of year testing."

Huh. That actually sounded…. reasonable. I was immediately suspicious.

"So if I can pass some tests that cover everything I haven't been taught, I go back to class. If I fail I have to get tutored. Where does this happen, at home?"

Dad took on a slightly embarrassed look, one I was familiar with. This was the 'we don't have enough money look.'

"Well they gave me a list of private tutors, but with the hospital bills…. I can't really see any of them as a good option. There is also a free web-based service, though we would have to pay for monthly progress testing for the school to recognize it."

I hated it when Dad sounded like this, defeated because he couldn't get me something he thought I needed. Putting all the confidence I could muster in my voice, I looked him in the eye.

"We then I have a simple solution. I'll just pass the tests on Wednesday."

—

I could hear the sound of the front door closing, meaning Dad had left for work and I was alone in the house. On the table in front of me were books for all of my classes, summaries of what material had been covered (some more complete than others), and at least one study guide. Looking at the sheer amount of information that I had missed was intimidating.

Or rather, I could tell that it should have been. Instead I couldn't help but smile. A couple of days ago I read almost 1500 pages of fiction in under 5 minutes. Standing here at the kitchen table, I could remember every word of it. I walked over to the stove and pulled off the tea kettle. Pouring the water into a cup, I set the kettle aside and lowered a tea bag into it. Setting the tea aside to steep, I dove into the stack of books.

Ten minutes later I was drinking my tea, the table in front of my much messier, but the work done. Information absorbed. Also, I had a headache. Note to self, too much speed reading comes with a downside. Still, I now had the rest of the day to myself. This was as good a time as any to go out and stretch my legs.

********Authors Note**********

Short up date.

Next Up: Obligatory Training Montage

Show a lot of things happenin' at once

Remind everyone of what's goin' on (what's going on)

And, with every shot, show a little improvement

To show that it all would take too long

That's called a montage (montage)

Ooh, we want a montage (montage)


	5. Spark 5

Ride the Lightning

Spark 1.5

I stood on my back porch lacing up my sneakers. Now I could lie and say that I had a plan, after all what kid hasn't imagined what they would do if they suddenly woke up with super powers. Even so, I had always pictured myself as more of an Alexandria type. Super strong, unbreakable, and the ability to fly. Take me downtown and I could point to all of the buildings I would be flying loops around right now if I could. Instead of being a flying tank, I'm more of a bullet. Tightening the final knot I hopped off the side of the porch and took off at an easy jog.

Well, I say easy jog. I was moving at a pretty good clip, easily matching my treadmill performance during physical therapy. At first I just kind of ran aimlessly, no real destination in mind. With how effortless moving at this pace was, I allowed my mind to drift towards my goals. Particularly the question of, what are my goals?

My power is speed, but it seems like there is more to it than that. I don't just run fast, or think fast; I AM fast. The CT machine showed that, even when I am trying to be perfectly still, I am in motion. My dash back and forth across my hospital room showed that I can not only run at an insanely fast speed, but I don't have any trouble starting or stopping. From zero to GO in the blink of an eye, and from full speed ahead to full stop with no noticeable stutter. The questions now are, how do I use this to fight crime, and what risks am I willing to take?

The first answer seems obvious enough. Moving as fast as I do I should be able to disarm most criminals before they even know I'm there. Going a step further, I could get handcuffs or those zip tie things onto the bad guys just as fast. With that in mind, I think my training should definitely include a focus on how to safely disarm a perp (thank you Law and Order for that term), and different ways of securing them.

The second question is a little harder. What risks am I willing to take? You don't hear about solo heroes too often, they tend to wind up dead or forced into early retirement. The Protectorate does a good job of looking out for its members, though you have to be 18 to join. There are always the Wards…. worth thinking about at least. Until then, it would probably be for the best if I was able to just stay under the radar. Doing that means, at the least, not being identified. At the most, not being seen.

So there were my two training goals. Rapid threat identification and removal, and evading recognition and identification. Paying attention to my surroundings again for the first time in a few minutes I become aware of the fact that I am passing by Arcadia High School. Still feeling like my gas tank is on full, I decide it's time for a field test. The school seems to be pretty deserted, not surprising for 2pm on a Saturday afternoon in February. Pulling my scarf up around my face I head towards their stadium.

—-

Arcadia really had the best of everything. As I walked into their football stadium I couldn't help but feel a little resentful at the lack of graffiti on the walls. The field itself was covered in a light layer of snow. The bleachers went up 30 rows, with wide stepped aisles spaced out every 50 feet. A quarter mile track wrapped around the field, though the lane markers were hidden underneath the snow. The air was still, quiet.

It was perfect.

I knew I was fast, but fighting crime is not a series of distance races. I needed to make sure I could move with speed and precision if I was going to be taking down the bad guys and getting out as cleanly as I wanted. To start with I climbed to the top row of each side of the stadium somewhere in the middle. On each side I took 10 marbles out of my pocket and threw them down into the stands, trying not to pay attention to where they hit, which way they rolled, or where they came to a stop. Once finished I trudged my way out to the middle of the field. Once there I took a moment to turn around, looking hard for obstacles. When nothing jumped out at me I reached into my pocket and pulled out the stopwatch I had found in the basement.

Mission 1: Find the Marbles

Clicking the start button, I was off.

Unlike before when I was jogging, now I was actively pushing myself. I could feel the cold air hit my face, strangely it didn't hurt at all, feeling more like a fan blowing than what the high speed wind resistance should have felt like. Everything around me slowed down.

Everything.

As I ran towards the visitors side bleachers I took note of a bird moving slowly though the air. Apparently my taking off had startled it into flight but, from my perspective, it was moving at a slow crawl.

Weird.

Weird but helpful. If my reaction time were anything like normal I would have slammed into a concrete wall instead of being able to head up the first two steps. Moving down the row I looked under each chair for the marbles. Not seeing any I headed to the next row.

And the next.

And the next. MARBLE FOUND! Next row.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next. MARBLE TWO! MARBLE THREE! Next row.

MARBLE FOUR!

I pushed myself harder, moving faster. Reaching the top of the visitors side I counted the marbles in my hands, 10 in total. Shoving them in my pocket I rocketed back down the stairs, taking a half lap around the field before hitting the first row on the home side.

MARBLE FOUND!

The seats blurred a little at the edges of my vision, but I was still able to see fine details everywhere I looked. Row by row I made my way to the top. Once there I counted.

10 marbles from the visitors' side, 10 from the home.

Rushing back to the middle of the field I took out the stopwatch and clicked it off.

Total elapsed time: 00:00:15

I'm pretty sure my shout could be heard all the way across the bay! Fifteen seconds to look for and find 20 marbles spread over 30 levels of seating on two sides of a football field. Watch out Brockton Bay, you won't know what hit you.

—

You won't know what hit you. Well, that is the idea anyway. Testing that idea… is proving difficult. I could always just bundle up and run in front of people, then dash back and see if anyone reacted. Doesn't seem too well thought out though. Either they don't react, in which case I either succeeded, or they weren't paying attention; or they do react and the fact that there is a new cape who is really, really fast (but not as fast as I obviously thought) becomes known.

I thought about this as I walked home. My time at Arcadia was good, really good. After a few more rounds of find the marbles I found an unlocked maintenance locker and pulled out some water hose. This lead to a half hour of me running around and tying up various stadium seats. The goal was to throw the hose somewhere, then run in from another direction and grab the hose, back out, then back in and tie up the chair. I figured that approach would best simulate captures using what was on hand, at least until I had equipped myself. Still, all of this would be for nothing until I answered the visibility question.

Feeling a bit thirsty, I decided to stop into a Gulp and Go a few blocks from my house. Pulling a bottle of water from the cooler in the back corner, I couldn't help but give the store a quick once over. It had the obligatory curved mirrors for spotting shoplifters, a really obvious security camera that was just as obviously broken, and a single other customer who was obviously drunk or stoned. The clerk was sitting next to the register, head against the wall as he drooled, the occasional snore making him jump a little. An idea came to mind. A reckless idea…. but maybe worth it.

I moved past a couple of aisles, trying to find a sweet spot where the camera, broken or not, wouldn't see me. Finding one I bent down, acting like I was tying my shoe. I peeked around the shelf and saw the clerk still asleep. Taking a deep breath I moved.

Fast.

Easily as fast as when I had pushed myself in the stadium. Time slowed as I came around the corner. The drunk and/or stoned customer wobbled in a barely perceptible fashion as I passed him. A drop of drool moved from the corner of the clerks mouth, falling at a glacial pace as I lifted the railing and slipped behind the counter. The door to the office, marked employees only opened and closed, leaving me in the room. Sure enough there was a television and a VCR of all things, the screen showing an image of the store. I hit the eject button and waited what seemed like a year for the tape to eject. Tape in hand I blasted out of the office, out of the store, and didn't stop until I was in my room.

Shit. I still had the bottle of water. I need to remember to go back and pay for it.

Before that though… I popped the tape in my VCR, hit the rewind button, waited a few seconds, then play.

On the screen was a view of the Gulp and Go. Drunk-Stoned Man came in and proceeded to pick up a bottle of aspirin, read it, put it back, and then pick it up again. He was on his third read through when I came into the store. I watched as the Taylor on screen went straight for the water. Suddenly she stopped and (as it looked to me) started acting suspicious as hell. I watched myself disappear behind a shelf. Five seconds afterwards the tape stopped. The entire time I had a clear view of the clerk, the counter, and the door to the office. Nothing during those 5 seconds gave any indication that something had moved.

I rewound the tape and hit pause, then forward, letting the tape proceed in what was effectively slow motion. Same furtive movements. Same ducking behind the shelf.

There.

For one frame there was a hint of…. something. A blur that honestly looked like a defect in the tape. Then the same ending.

Question answered. When I move fast enough, you don't see me unless I slow down for you to.

Hearing the door open I knew Dad was home.

******** Authors Note ************

Ok, training montages obviously lack something when not visual and / or to the tune of some rad 80's music. Still here I feel like I showed what will be (at least initially) the primary weapons in Taylor's arsenal. Moving fast enough not to be seen, and the ability to carry out precise actions faster than they can be perceived, much less reacted to.

Next Installment: Training Day, or How I Learned to Stop Pickpockets and Love the Mall*

*Mall my be replaced by boardwalk, your milage may vary.


	6. Spark 6

Ride the Lightning

Spark 1.6

Saturday Night.

Go time.

Well kind of. After spending the day pushing myself I was reasonably certain that I could move through the city without being seen. That said, I might need to slow down at some point and for that I would need a disguise. A thorough search of the house turned up some useful odds and ends. A pair of grey cargo pants that Dad hasn't worn in more than a year. A black knit cap. A pea coat that had belonged to mom. A roll of duct tape was clipped to my belt. For now it would be my all purpose restraint / gag. My scarf wrapped around my lower face completed the outfit. A superhero costume it was not, but if everything goes right….. no one will see me coming or going.

Dad went to bed an hour ago. Listening at his door I could hear the slow, rhythmic breathing that I took to mean he was out. Creeping down the stairs I made for the back door. The porch light had gone out back in December and hadn't been replaced yet, making this as good a point of entry and exit as any. Slowly I opened the door, stopped to listen again, then slipped out and pulled the door closed behind me. Standing in the cold dark of night I took a deep breath to center myself then, in the span of a single heart beat, I was off.

—-

So… maybe I should have thought this through a little more. Before I set out I took my speed to be an asset for going on patrol. I can cover pretty much the entire city, getting from any point a to any point b in a minute or less. Turns out that strength of response time is also a weakness when it comes to locating crime. As I blaze through the streets, even with my perceptions speeding up to the point that everything around me slows to a near standstill…. I spend so little time on each street that I don't see anything.

Slowing down, I came to a stop near an alley down by the docks. Even though Dad worked in this area, I had never spent much time here. Too rough. Between the drugs, the gangs, Dockworkers who have gone too long without work… let's just say that Dad is probably right to keep me out of here. Now though, this should make for a good hunting ground.

I sped off into into the docks proper, quickly moving into a maze of warehouses, storage units, and other less used buildings. A detour up a fire escape lets me find myself on the roof of a four story building. A walk around the roof taking in the surrounding streets. It's almost midnight, but the area does have foot traffic. Slovenly dressed men and women, some bundled for the cold, some showing a shocking amount of skin, meander up and down the roads, into and out of alleyways. Three guys standing on one of the corners under a busted out street light keep walking up to passing cars as they slow down. Drug dealers? Probably.

Across the street and a block further down? I see a dangerously skinny girl wearing short cut off's with a halter top. How she isn't shivering I'll never know. As I watched I saw a car pull up and stop. The passenger door opened and the girl climbed inside. The car then pulled off the road into an alley.

Wow I'm slow sometimes.

Ok, so multiple crimes in progress right in front of me. How best to stop them. Well there was definitely a crime going on in that alley. The dealers on the corner could wait a moment. Taking off from the roof I was back on the road a second later. A quick run around the block let me find the guy who was obviously the pimp running the girl. From my vantage point across the street I could tell he was keeping an eye mostly on the activities in the the car. This man was clearly not concerned about the police getting involved.

Well let's see what I can do about that attitude. Reaching to my side I unclipped the duct tape and held it in my left hand. Another look left and right to ensure that no one was watching the pimp and I moved.

I slammed into the man at pretty close to what I felt was my full speed. Let me stop here to say that I was pretty sure I wasn't going to splatter him on impact. Something I've noticed is that, just like I'm not hurt by the speeds at which I move, things I'm touching handle the forces pretty well. I had yet to have a pair of shoes melt or to have my clothes burst into flames from friction. All of that said, he obviously didn't get to enjoy the same speeding up of perception that I did while moving at speed. I ran into the man and kept going, taking him with me. His eyes were still turned in the direction the car had been in. By the time his mind caught up to his body the pimp was 10 blocks away and duct taped to a telephone pole. I took out his cell phone and gave 911 a call.

"911, do you need Police, Fire, or EMS?"

I tried to drop my voice two octaves…. I was less than successful.

"I'm at the corner of Wabash and Lake. There is a guy duct taped to a telephone pole. I think he has something to do with the people who are taped up down the road at Wabash and Vice. Send Police I think, they look scary."

Civic duty halfway done, I dropped the phone and headed back to the car.

—

By the time I made it back to the car….. nothing really had changed. Less than two minutes had passed. The windows were foggy which I took as a good sign? Yes, let's go with good. It meant I didn't have to see what was going on inside. Instead I took my tape and began wrapping it around the car; going over the roof, under the body, and of course over the doors. My tape ran out, but I'm pretty sure those doors aren't going to be opened from the inside. For good measure I let the air out of all four tires. Two crimes down, one to go. Unfortunately I no longer had any tape.

About the time the people in the car realized something was up, I had an idea. Racing out to the road I stopped at the mouth of the alley and poked by head out. All three of them were still standing on the corner. They didn't have anything on that screamed a gang affiliation, but the fact that they were as ragged looking as they appeared and were dealing in the docks meant they were probably Merchants. None of them looked armed, though I would be the first to admit I had no way of really knowing that short of someone waving a weapon around. The important thing was…. they all had shoes on. Shoes, with laces.

—-

"Dispatch this is Unit 221."

The radio crackled.

"Go ahead 221."

"221, I'm on scene at Wabash and Vice. It's, well it's weird. I have two suspects, one male, one female, who have been duct taped inside of a car. Three other suspects, all male, who have been tied to a street light by what appears to be their shoe laces. Each of the three tied males have what appears to be distribution amounts of crystal meth in zip lock baggies that have been braided into their hair."

"Dispatch to 221, can you repeat your last?"

"221, repeat, drugs have been braided into the suspects hair. Can you get evidence collection down here? I don't want to touch anything before we can get trace collected."

"Copy 221, CSI en route."

Behind Officer Johnson his partner stood laughing, taking pictures with his cell phone.

Standing on the roof of a warehouse, Taylor smiled to herself and then, in the blink of an eye, was gone.

******Authors Note*******

Ok, first crime fought, first criminals thwarted. Probably the last I will write tonight. Please feel free to provide feedback. I have no beta readers so any errors found, feel free to point them out. Gratitude will flow forth.


	7. Spark 7

Ride the Lightning

Spark 1.7

 **Sunday Morning**

I was in the middle of making waffles when Dad came into the kitchen. He walked up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Good morning. Mmmmm that smells good. What have I done to deserve Sunday morning waffles?"

Smiling despite myself, I pulled the last golden brown waffle from the iron.

"Maybe I just think you're a great dad and great dad's deserve waffles from time to time. Now sit down and eat before they get cold."

Sitting with a comical harumph, dad reached for the paper while I put a plate in front of him.

"Yes Ma'am."

Reaching for my own plate I began to eat, fidgeting a bit while I watched him read the paper. Would it mention me? Well obviously not by name (really needed to come up with one of those), or a description, but at a minimum there should be some interview with a grateful police officer.

—-

Six waffles later and Dad was done with the paper and heading out to the store. Picking it up, I decided that his lack of reaction probably had more to do with a lifetime in Brockton Bay making him somewhat immune to unusual news. I started flipping through the pages, only reading slightly faster than normal.

I almost missed it when I came to it. In the city section, listed under crime, there was a PRT bulletin.

'The public is advised to be on the look out for unusual Parahuman activity in the docks. At approximately 1:30am a Parahuman of unknown classification assaulted 6 individuals. This Parahuman is currently wanted for questioning on charges of assault, battery, unlawful detainment, and fleeing the scene of a crime. Possible Parahuman abilities include teleportation, invisibility or some other means of evading sight, and telekinesis. Persons with information about this individual should contact the PRT hotline at …..'

Blinking I folded the paper and sat it down on the table.

What the hell?

—

For the past hour I had sat on my bed, just numbly staring at the wall. I knew that criminals got off easy in Brockton Bay, but I didn't think it was this bad. No, it couldn't be this bad. I had to have done something wrong. That realization was… disheartening.

A knock on my door broke me out of the pity party.

"Come in."

The door opened and Dad came into the room. Seeing me sitting on the bed he frowned a little.

"Taylor, why aren't you studying? You do remember the testing you have on Wednesday, right?"

Sure thing Dad, but I already learned everything using my super speed. Yeah, not answering that way.

"Actually Dad, I was wondering. I think I could probably pass all of the tests. I looked over the outlines you gave me yesterday and I feel pretty confident. The question is… should I?"

Dad came fully into the room closing the door behind him.

"Should you what?"

"Should I pass the tests and go back to school?"

I took a deep breath before pressing on.

"I don't know if you noticed, but I haven't been having the best of times lately. No one really talks to me, and I can't seem to connect to people well."

My Dad's eyes widened just a hair. I think I may be treading close to fatherly illusions about his only child.

"I don't really know what to say Taylor. I know that you haven't seemed as outgoing as you did before. I've noticed that you haven't gone over to Emma's for awhile and she never comes around here anymore. I guess I just chalked it up to normal teenage angst. Is there something more to it?"

Did I want to tell my Dad about the bullying? Not really. Maybe if I softball it a little.

"It's not that there is more to it so much as I just don't feel like I fit in at Winslow so much anymore. Between the gangs, the distracted teachers, and how cliquey everyone is…. I think a break would do me good."

Dad squared his shoulders like he was about to make 'A Pronouncement.' I decided to rush ahead and see if I could short circuit it.

"I mean, I've already missed so much time anyway. If I can test at the end of the year and not have to worry about not going to the next grade, why shouldn't I? You said the school offered us access to an online study guide. Between my computer and the public library I shouldn't have any problems learning what I need to. And there were the monthly progress assessments, so it's not like we wouldn't know if I was falling behind."

I gave him my best puppy dog eyes.

"Dad I…. I think I could use the break."

All of the tension that had been building in his shoulders seemed to melt away. Walking the rest of the way across the room, Dad sat down next to me on the bed, putting his arm around my shoulders.

"Ok. I don't like that you were feeling so alone and didn't tell me, but I can see this has been a burden on you. On Wednesday we can go up to the school and I'll let them know you won't be back for the rest of the year. If I do this though, you have to do something for me?"

A negotiation huh?

"What's that?"

Looking me in the eyes, Dad fired his closing shot.

"You WILL join some type of community organization. It can be an athletic team, an art class, an explorers post or something else; just as long as it gets you out of the house and interacting with people."

I think I may have glared a little. Still, as a price for getting away from Emma, Madison, and Sophia, it wasn't half bad.

"What is an explorers post?"

Smiling again, Dad stood up and started walking towards the door.

"Explorers are a part of Scouting. Instead of focussing on camping or outdoor skills, they tend to be focussed on civic services. You can find them based out of Fire Departments, Ambulance Companies, Police Departments, places like that. From what I remember, you get a uniform and, in addition to working in the community, you learn about the parent organization."

I couldn't help smiling myself. Police Explorers huh….

*******Authors Note*******

Not sure if I am happy with this one or not. I wanted to quickly hit Taylor with the idea that her "heroics" didn't really have an impact and to realize that there was a lot she didn't know. In Worm Taylor spent a great deal of time researching. This was mostly because her particular power required deep thought to find applications, and her need to ensure she was as safe as possible. Here her speed takes care of both of those factors, which is why she went out so soon.

I almost included a PHO section here, but decided it was too soon to pull that trigger.


	8. Spark 8

Ride the Lightning

Spark 1.8

I spent Monday and Tuesday devoted to research. As ironic as it sounds, I've decided my problem is that I need to slow down. In the rush that followed figuring out I had superpowers, I just kind of jumped into trying to be a hero.

The result?

All of the "criminals" I caught were released, and the PRT was looking for me.

All and all an outstanding start.

At least all of the steps I took to guard my identity had worked out in my favor. According to the write up in the newspaper no one really had anything to go on. Several hours spent on Parahumans Online had also shown that, other and a link to the press release in the Brockton Bay Board, no one was really talking about it. Apparently people are so jaded when it comes to Parahuman mischief that my actions hadn't raised any but the most cursory of eyebrows. All and all I was lucky and I knew it.

Which brings me back to where I'm at now, research. With Dads support I will go into Winslow on Wednesday and essentially opt out of the rest of the school year. Dad was trusting that I am a motivated enough student that I can make it through self-directed learning with regular progress check ups. That level of freedom coupled with my ability to learn a great deal of information in a (relatively) short period of time meant that I had a good chunk of the day that could be devoted to crime fighting.

Based on what I've read, I made a few…. or a lot….. or maybe just all of the possible mistakes my first night out. What mistakes? For starters both of my approaches to patrolling were just wrong. As fast as I can move, I have the same problem that flying capes on patrol have. The sheer amount of area I can cover in such a short period of time means that, even with Brockton Bay's crime rate, I'm just not likely to ever come across a crime in progress.

Approach two, the stake out of a high crime area, was also doomed to failure. While I was able to witness crimes in progress, by intervening in the way I did I made it virtually impossible for the Police to do anything with the criminals. No chain of custody for evidence, no crime scene control, no witness statements, nothing. The fact that I am working as a no-name, non-registered vigilante makes it that much more important that I cover all of my bases in this regard.

I'm sure that there was more that I did wrong. As tempting as it was to just head down to the library and devour the law section; to head to the university bookstore and do the same with their criminal justice books. it felt wrong. At best I would get an encyclopedic knowledge of the law. While that might seem like a good thing or a great start, I'm thinking that it may be better to get a first hand view of crime fighting. The more I learned about the Police Explorers program, the more I've come to think that it will fill in about half of the blanks. It will check off Dad's "Taylor be social" requirement, it will expose me to working Police Officers, will include the possibility of ride alongs, and will give me access to what I have decided is a piece of mission essential equipment.

Thinking back to my patrol problems, I came to the realization that my speed was being misused by both random patrolling and by dedicated stake outs. Instead of hoping to stumble across criminals or wasting my time hoping that crime might happen in my field of vision, I was much better equipped to be a rapid response force.

A really, super, rapid response force.

With that in mind, I needed to get my hands on a police scanner. By listening to the dispatch information, I could get tipped off to where crimes in progress were happening or were suspected to be happening, and then get there literally seconds after the fact. As much as I was dying to make this happen as soon as possible, it was still only half the problem.

The PRT was the other half. Right now they were looking for me. Well, not ME, but yeah, kind of me. If I wanted to avoid them drawing a direct connection between me and the "unknown Parahuman suspected of assault, battery, unlawful detainment, ect," I would need to change up how I went about my cape career.

Duct tape? Gone. Fleeing the crime scene? I'm still on the fence about this. The Vigilante Protection Act, as near as I can tell, should protect me if I stayed on hand to give the Police a report. That said, as an unregistered Cape I had almost no protection in court for my actions. Short of being forced to reveal my identity, it was completely up to local law enforcement and the PRT to decide on the legality of my actions. I couldn't help but feel that this was a stick meant to encourage affiliating with the PRT in some fashion.

I guess the big question of the day is, why shouldn't I? I was the right age for the Wards. They could help me out with a costume, training, maybe get me moved into Arcadia. Heck, they probably had a whole team of people with the sole job of helping new Capes come up with a name (so far I had dismissed The Blur, the Streak, Catch Me If You Can, The Human Bullet, Zipper, and Lightning Lady….. names are hard). From what PHO said, Ward's also got a stipend and a college fund.

All of that said…. I still wasn't sure. From what I could tell Ward's seemed really limited in what they were allowed to do. A Ward's time seemed to be split up between public appearances, token patrols through high visibility areas, and the occasional public stand by at concerts and such.

So much to think about.

—-

 **WEDNESDAY**

Moment of truth time. Wednesday morning found me sitting in the passenger seat of the car as Dad navigated the streets leading to Winslow. I was both nervous and excited. Deciding to not go back until next year was probably the most adult decision Dad had ever let me make. I understood that he was showing a great deal of faith in my ability to be responsible, learn what I needed to learn, and go back to school next year on the same level as my peers.

I felt a little guilty about the fact that I had decided that was never going to happen. Sure, I would do the required online studying, I would take (and pass) the monthly learning check ups. Come the end of the year I would take and pass the exam to go into the next grade. That isn't all I would do. I would ace it, perfect score. I would then use that to argue that I felt I could probably challenge the GED exam and get out of High School all together. Should Dad have a problem with that, I would point out that 15 wouldn't be an unheard of age to start taking college classes. The evidence of how well I learned on my own coupled with a desire to go to college… that should kill any objections.

For his part, Dad was quiet on the drive. Even though I was doing better than I had in months, since before the bullying had really gotten bad, Dad seemed to be carrying more weight on his shoulders than ever before. I saw him giving me a look out of the corner of his eye while driving and I gave him a smile. The light in his eyes got a little brighter, then the hard look came back. The car stopped and he turned it off. We were here.

—-

We had arrived while classes were in session, so the hallways were pretty clear. It was weird to think that I had last been here over a month ago. To my mind, the lightning strike had been a week ago. There was still snow on the ground, the halls pretty clear of graffiti, what with it being painted over during winter break. The evidence of time's passage was evident from the moment we walked through the door. Green and red kanji covered the walls. In some places white paint had been splashed over it, blocky 88's painted in its place. The smell of pot came from one of the restrooms we passed on our way to the main office. I squeezed Dad's hand as he gave me a look that seemed to scream, "THIS is your school?!"

Arriving at the office Dad walked up to the receptionist desk. A bored looking woman in her 50's, Mrs. Shadwell barely looked up from her computer.

"Yes?"

Somehow looking very annoyed yet utterly restrained, Dad cleared his throat.

"Danny and Taylor Hebert here for Principal Blackwell."

At that the receptionist looked up.

"Mr. Hebert, right. I'll go let Principal Blackwell know you're here. Just have a seat over there." She pointed towards the torn chairs in the hallway outside of the office.

Dad looked at me, I just shrugged my shoulders. No use getting worked up over rudeness now. In a few short minutes I would be walking out of this place for the last time.

We had been sitting for about ten minutes when Mrs. Shadwell came back out.

"Principal Blackwell will see you now Mr. Hebert. Taylor you may remain seated here until they are ready for you."

I was a little taken aback.

"Why can't I go in? I thought the whole point of coming here today was so I could get tested or something?"

Mrs. Shadwell didn't miss a beat.

"There are some issues that Principal Blackwell needs to clear up with your father first. I'm sure they will call you inside in just a minute or so."

I was about to say something else when Dad put his hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry Taylor, I'm sure it will be fine. Just hang out here for me, ok?"

Not really, but I could do it for him.

"Sure Dad."

I sat back down and watched as Dad disappeared into the office. Folding my arms I leaned back in the ratty chair, closing my eyes.

Then the bell rang.

—

Shit. Which bell was that? Third period? That means…

I turned my head to the left and there she was. Madison Clements. She was coming out of the English classroom, which meant she would need to stop by her locker first.

Which meant she would have to walk right past me.

I tensed up as she approached, waiting for the inevitable shoe to drop.

Madison stuck up a conversation with one of her friends…. Julie I think. They were talking in an animated fashion, all waving arms and giggles as they walked by. She did not so much as look in my direction.

Weird. Did they forget about me while I was gone? I mean, the whole stuck by lightning-stuck in a coma for a month thing is pretty noteworthy, but maybe it kept me off of their radar enough that they lost interest. Breathing a sigh of relief I slid back in the chair and closed my eyes, foot tapping impatiently as I waited to be called into the meeting.

The sound of a throat clearing snapped me to attention. I was halfway out of the chair before I remembered to slow down. I knew that sound. In front of me stood Emma, Sophia, and Madison. A smirk was on Madisons' face.

"I told you she came back. Probably brought in by the police for skipping school."

Sophia gave Madison a _look_ and she shut up. The athletic looking girl was eyeing me, something appraising in her eyes.

"Hebert, you came back."

I looked past her to Emma, former best friend, Backstabber in Chief. Emma looked…weird. If this were the Emma of two years ago, I would say she looked hopeful. The corner of her mouth was turned up just a little, as if she were trying very hard not to smile.

Locking eyes with Sophia I let out a breath.

"Yeah, I'm back. Don't get too excited."

For a moment the four of us just sort of waited.

I crossed my arms.

"Is this still a thing we're going to do? In a minute or so I go into Blackwell's office and then I'm outta of here."

"For good."

Well that got a reaction. Madison looked a little worried. Emma carefully blanked her face. Some of her normal anger entered Sophia's eyes. Stepping forward, she leaned in.

"What do you mean 'out of here for good'? What are you planning, a little snitch session and then a transfer? That shit's not going to happen, no one's going to believe a little worm like you anyw..."

When I heard the familiar venom in her voice I couldn't help it, I reacted. Still in the process of standing back up, Sophia slowed to a crawl. Everything slowed to a crawl. Sitting in my chair I sped up so fast that everything around me just… stopped.

Standing up I walked slowly around the girls. Heh, slowly. I might as well have been walking around statues. Realizing just how fast I had to be moving, I looked down at my hands. In this very still world, I was a vibrating mess of energy. The edges of my hands blurred a little as I looked. I could feel my hair standing just a bit on end, like I had a static charge. Completing my circuit around the girls I came back to my original position, in front of the chair.

Facing Sophia.

"I could fucking end you now you evil, arrogant bitch. It would be like you just disappeared. A mystery for the fucking ages. One second you are bullying me, the next Emma and Madison are alone, I'm sitting in a chair, and no one ever sees or hears from Sophia FUCKING Hess again."

Reaching my hand out towards Sophia's chest I pointed my index finger at her heart, pushing with just enough force that I could feel that weird pressure I felt when I moved someone else at superspeed. I could do it, take all of my anger, aggression, fear, hurt; take it all and unleash it here.

But in doing so, I think I would lose something important that I would never be able to get back. I let my arm drop to my side.

"You are not fucking worth it."

I sat back down and let out a slow breath. The sense of vibration, of potential energy waiting, begging for release abated.

"..ay."

Sophia's word finished after what felt like minutes. I had used the relative rest to regain my composure.

"Don't worry, I didn't go tattling. It's not like anyone here would believe me anyway. But I was fucking struck by lightning and missed over a month of school. It's not like I'm just going to jump back into classes like nothing happened. I'm gone, out of here. Home school until the end of the year then I'm testing out of the grade. If I do as well as I think I will without the distraction of you three, I plan on testing out of school completely over the summer."

"When I say I'm out of here 'for good', I mean exactly that. I am leaving this UTTER SHITHOLE and you three BITCHES," a pause and a breath, "behind me where you belong."

And somewhere, some all powerful entity decided to smile down upon me because just as I finished my proclamation the office door opened and Mrs Shadwell stuck her head out.

"Taylor, Principal Blackwell is ready for you now."

Standing up from the chair I met each of them eye to eye, then turned on my heel and walked through the door.

I walked into Principal Blackwell's office to see my dad sitting in a too small chair. Across the desk sat Blackwell. Something about the room felt off, like when you walk into the middle of an argument and everyone suddenly tries to act like nothing was happening. Dad was sitting on the edge of the chair, his back straight, hands gripping the chair's arms.

Principal Blackwell's nostrils were flaring slightly, as if she was out of breath and was doing her best to not show it. When I reached her desk she stood, offering me a hand. I awkwardly took it, wincing a little at how tight her grip was as she shook my hand.

"Taylor, after…. talking the situation over with your father, I understand that you are electing not to return to Winslow this school year?"

Sitting down next to Dad, I was a little surprised when I felt him slip his hand into mine and give it a reassuring squeeze. Squaring my shoulders I turned my attention back to Principal Blackwell.

"That's right. Given," I almost said 'everything that's gone on, "all of the time that I've missed, I just think I can catch up better if I can really focus you know? Without all of the… distractions that we have here. I'm sure I'll be ready for the test at the end of the year and will be back in the fall."

After I finished saying my piece Principal Blackwell again fixed my Dad with a stare. Seemingly coming to a decision she stood and again reached her hand out to me. Grasping mine in a firm shake she said with the feeling of finality, "Best of luck to you Ms. Hebert. Your father has all of the details. I look forward to having you back in the fall."

Things blurred together for me a little after that. I don't really remember filling out the paperwork, picking up the testing schedule, walking out of the office. What I do remember is opening the doors for the last time and exiting the school. The realization that I was free from WInslow, free from Emma, Sophia, Madison…. Just plain free to be me again.

I was overwhelmed.

 _In the third floor girls restroom Sophia closed the stall door and walked up to the sink to wash her hands. If she were being honest with herself, she would have to admit that Hebert had surprised her. For the first time since meeting Emma's "friend," she saw something. Defiance, some fucking backbone. The hint that the girl might actually be worth something. Shame that she wasn't going to be in school anymore. Emma was already acting weird as shit. The redhead had maintained from the beginning that Hebert could be strong, could be a survivor, maybe even a predator. Sophia had never seen it before. Today's hint notwithstanding, she would probably never see it._

 _Turning off the sink, Sophia reached for a paper towel to dry her hands. In the process she took in her reflection in the mirror._

" _What the fuck?"_

 _Pulling her shirt out and away from her chest, she examined the hole in it. Located in the center of her chest, it was perfectly round, about the size of a finger._

" _Where the hell did that come from?"_

******* Authors Note *********

Ok so I lied. I didn't mean to, but it happened. I had intended to finish arc 1 with 1.8, posting it all this weekend. Instead I got about 1000 words past where this ends and realized that it was too disjointed to have it all together. So here this is, the abbreviated 1.8. Arc 1 will still end this weekend.

So, let's talk about Emma and Sophia. My take on Emma and Sophia will be a bit more muted than what sometimes shows up in these fic's. I like the idea that Emma, up until the Locker Incident, was still rooting for Taylor to prove herself. I like to think Sophia is disturbed (probably with influence from her shard, but not entirely), but is not a full blown sociopath. With those two thoughts in mind, I am going to look at exploring what happens to them by 1) aborting the Locker Incident and 2) removing Taylor from their daily attention. Obviously (by taking Taylor out of school) we won't see them that much. That said, they WILL show up.


	9. Spark 9

Ride the Lightning

Spark 1.9

6:00 am and I awoke to the sound of my Dad in the shower. Since Mom had died Dad and I had been defined by our habits. A kind of depressing cruise control had settled upon the two of us. It isn't that we grew apart so much as we both stagnated, then allowed life to carry us in different directions. If there was a plus side to my coma, well other than super powers, it was that Dad seemed to be fully engaged. I'm not exactly sure what passed between him and PRinciple Blackwell yesterday. I know it was… something. The body language I had seen upon entering her office screamed that tension was high, her tone when speaking to me said that the words coming out of her mouth did not match the ones she would have preferred to use. A month (or a subjective week) ago this would have made me paranoid. As far as I was concerned now? The world has decided to work in my favor.

Knock on wood.

Which brings me back to now. 6:00am.

Thursday.

 **NOT** a school day.

Dad is getting ready for work. I have all of the sign in information for my online tutoring and plans to stop by the library at some point to log in and get an idea of what it is I'm supposed to be learning. Blocking out an hour for "official" Taylor activities, I find myself needing to fill the rest of the day.

Before I went to bed last night I looked up some information about the Police Explorers program. Apparently there are two outposts in Brockton Bay. The first and oldest meets on the first weekend of the month at the Captain's Hill Precinct House. The second and newer one is sponsored by the local PRT and meets in the conference room at PRT headquarters on the third weekend of every month. As far as I can tell nothing prevents me from going to both meetings. That kind of proactive socialization should be more than enough to meet Dad's requirement that I "engage with my peer group."

At this point I've already missed the first meeting of the month. The PRT Post meeting isn't for another two weeks.

How will I pass the time.

Dad left for work about 30 minutes ago. Having given it some thought, I've decided that I didn't want to carry my costume around with me. With as fast as I can get around the city, it would be simple enough to just wrap the scarf around my face and zip home to change. Plus the whole plausible deniability should anyone come across the backpack. Today's agenda is pretty straight forward.

Go to library, see what I need to spend time studying this month.

Patrol city for a little bit. Try not to be seen, but also how I can help out in ways that will stick.

Don't die.

I honestly wasn't as worried about that last one nearly as much as I should be. This was for two reasons. The first was that, for me to get hurt while out on patrol I would need to slow down enough for something to hit me.

Yeah, that wasn't happening anytime soon.

The second reason? Last night I decided to shave my legs. Did I strictly need to? No. Still I was out of school, away from the bullies, and felt like doing something that made me feel pretty. My lightning induced makeover came with an overall reduction in body fat which, while doing wonders for my little pot belly (HELLO ABS), didn't do me any favors in my already lacking chest. Downstairs was a different story. While I was now toned all over with corded muscle visible, my legs were killer. So sue me, I wanted to pamper myself a bit.

The fact that I hadn't much before lead to what happened. First swipe of the razor blade and I managed to open up an almost inch long slice in my calf. The hot flash of pain caught me by surprise. I watched a line of red well up and reached for some toilet paper to apply pressure when the pain suddenly stopped. Using the toilet paper to wipe away the blood, I watched as the cut healed in fast forward. In a matter of seconds it went from clean slice to angry red line to faint scar to nothing.

Completely healed.

Taking a moment to process what I just saw happen, I had a sudden urge to cut myself again to verify it. I immediately dismissed that urge for the stupid, stupid urge that it was. I don't plan on getting hurt in the line of duty, but I'm sure normal clumsiness will give me a chance before too long to verify this.

Still, I think I have super healing. Another side effect of the speed? Awesome regardless.

Bringing myself back to the present, I pulled on a coat, grabbed my backpack and headed out the door.

When I decided to walk to the library I honestly didn't think it would take this long. Something I may have to focus on is trying to maintain my grasp on how distance translates to travel time for regular people. Other than the boredom though, walking felt great. I had a sense of something… maybe a cross between freedom and safety, that I didn't have before. All in all it took me about an hour to make the trip. Walking up the steps into the library I made my way straight for the computer terminals. While I had a computer at home, my internet connection was spotty enough that I wouldn't want to risk submitting tests through it. There was another benefit to coming here as well. It gave me a somewhat plausible alibi for my location while Dad was at work. Home, library, or in between. Coupled with the hour travel time by foot, I should be pretty well covered for when I decide that Brockton Bay is due for a speed infusion.

Note to self: speed infusion is a terrible term for my superheroic intervention, it sounds like a shiny new product from the Merchants.

I head for the computer in the back corner and put my backpack on the table next to it before sitting down. From the backpack I withdraw the folder full of information about the online study program. All in all it took about 20 minutes to get an account set up and registered. As part of the process the account automatically sends an invitation to someone at the school district giving them access to my progress reports. I lace my fingers together and crack my knuckles while waiting for the first two week lesson plan to load. I should be able to knock this out in a couple of minutes and be able to go about my own projects.

 **Three Hours Later**

Emma Barnes. Sophia Hess. Madison Clements. If those names were items 1 through 3 on my shit list, being forced to move at the speed of an internet connection was bullshit entry number 4. See, while **I** can read at super speed, however long it may seem to take from my perspective, I get by with the knowledge that I haven't actually lost anytime.

The computer though….

THE COMPUTER….

I read a page of text in a fraction of a second, then click to the next page. I then am forced to wait in real time for the new page to load.

Over and over again.

If I was worried about getting caught using my power in the library to study, that worry has officially been laid to waste. Still, I've finished all of the work that should be expected of me for the first two weeks, minus the actual progress quizzes. I plan on saving those for random times during the weeks so that it doesn't look like I'm somehow cheating.

Heading towards the catalog terminal, I finally (FINALLY) start on my own project. It takes me a few minutes to narrow down my search criteria, but I am finally able to locate a couple of books on criminal investigation and crime scene management. I take each book off the shelf and lazily flip through the pages, absorbing every word.

Five minutes later and I am leaving the library behind me. I have a better appreciation for what I did wrong on my first outing. For the most part my updated plans corrected those errors. Looking at the weekend before me, the weeks after that, the rest of the school year and potentially the entire summer of semi-free time… I definitely had the opportunity to get it right.

"Fuck you, you slanty eyed bitch! Hand over the purse now or I'll just take it later!"

Amanda Wong shook despite herself. When Phil the Security Guard had offered to walk her to her car, she should have said yes.

"Oh no Phil, I couldn't ask you to do that. I parked down the street today, it's much too far for you to walk."

As she watched the knife wielding skin head between her and her car, a small part of Amanda was screaming about what an idiot she was. The rest was focussing on offering her purse to the creep while trying to look as nonthreatening as possible.

"Please just take it, I don't want any troub…."

In between one syllable and the next the man was gone. He had simply disappeared. Had she almost been mugged by a Parahuman?

" _Excuse me Ma'am."_

Amanda couldn't help it, she screamed. Turning around she saw a figure standing behind her, partially under the shadow or an awning. Whoever it was, they were tall and thin. Grey pants and a black hoodie helped the person blend into the shadows. A black scarf was wrapped around…. her mouth. The voice had been strange, almost like it was…. Vibrating? The girl spoke again.

"I'm sorry that you had to face someone like him. I've taken him to the 9th Precinct Police Station. As it stands right now, I think they will probably have to let him go."

She sounded a little cross as she said this.

It took Amanda a moment to catch up with what was happening.

"Oh my God! You're a Hero! I was getting mugged and you saved me!"

The masked girl exuded awkwardness at the praise. Amanda actually felt a little bad for her, until she realized exactly what it was she had said.

"What do you mean they will have to let him go?"

The Hero cocked her head to the side a little as she answered.

"Well as it stands now, he just kind of appeared in the Police Station. In order for them to do anything they kind of need you there to press charges. Is that something you want to do?"

Amanda remembered the sheer panic the thug had filled her with.

"You're damn right I want to."

A pause.

"Um, where is the 9th Precinct station at exactly?"

A smile obvious in her eyes, the Hero walked up to me. She looked…. Young.

"Well, I can get you there if you would like….."

SGT Matthew Barnes hated desk duty. When things were busy, it wasn't so bad. A steady flow of arresting officers, handcuffed perps, it made the time fly. When it was slow… it seemed to drag on forever. 3:00pm in the afternoon was pretty slow. The lunch time rush of ticket payers had cleared out, but it was still too early for Vice to start rolling though with pimps and johns in tow, or to be faced with drug dealers and buyers needing to be processed. Barnes looked down at his watch and groaned as the minute hand ticked forward to 3:01pm. When he looked back up it took him a moment to realize what was wrong. On the formerly empty bench in front of his desk was a man. 18 or 19 years old it seemed. His head shaved, dressed in a white t-shirt, black jacket, blue jeans with black combat boots. The laces on the boots were red. The strangest part?

The man was handcuffed.

SGT Barnes lifted the wooden shelf that blocked his side of the desk from the public area.

"Where on Earth did you come from?"

Before the man could answer there was a rush of wind, startling SGT Barnes. Two more people stood in his lobby. The first was an Asian woman, about 30 years of age. Her hair was windblown and she was dressed as if she worked in an office somewhere. The taller… woman next to her was another story. Grey pants, black hoodie, scarf wrapped around the lower half of the face? Barnes knew a Cape when he saw one. Sure enough, before he could put a sentence together, the Cape spoke.

"Officer, this woman would like to file charges against this man for… attempted mugging? Is that a thing? Assault maybe. Anyway, here she is, there he is, sorry I had to borrow your handcuffs, but I have to go."

Giving the cop a little salute the girl turned and was just gone. A quick draft of air was all there was to mark her exit.

Putting her hand on his shoulder, the Asian woman said in an understanding voice, "Yeah, she's apparently like that."

I sat in the Denny's across the street from the Police Station for an hour, waiting. The hour took forever to get through. It probably would have gone faster if I hadn't sped over to the station every few minutes to see how things were going.

In a word, things were going great.

Amanda, also known as the woman I saved, was currently filling out paperwork. David Netter, also known as skin head mook #173, was now in a holding cell. From what I could tell reading over people's shoulders, it looked like this bust was going to stick. It helped that Amanda was keeping it together enough to give a coherent statement. I also got the feeling that letting the Cop see me had been the right thing to do. I saw where the surveillance camera in the lobby was when I was dropping the mook off, so I'm pretty sure that I can only be seen from the back when I made my brief appearance. More visibility than I would have liked this early on, but all in all not a bad showing.

 **An Hour Ago….**

I was walking to the bus stop from the library. Even though I could make the run home in no time flat, I had resolved to make myself go slower, use normal transportation. It was a good thing I decided to walk to the bus stop too, otherwise I would never have seen the woman about to get mugged. While I will freely admit I am no expert when it comes to predicting human behavior, this was a textbook mugging. If you went to Wikipedia and searched for mugging, there would be a link to a video of this.

I would be lying if I said I didn't consider calling the cops and then just keeping an eye on things. After my last outing as a Hero I was a bit gun-shy. I am in no way considering giving it up, but I *did* spend all of that time coming up with a pretty concrete plan on how to proceed.

The woman's scream brings all debate to an end. I take off running towards the pair, everything around me slowing down to a crawl as I start moving. Coming up to the mugger I give him a quick once over. While he has a knife in his hand, there is a little gun tucked into his back waistband. I think it may be a revolver, it has that bit in the middle that spins. No wallet, go figure, but he does have 7 credit cards in his left pants pocket. And what do you know, none of the names match.

With my lack of costume I decide to not risk things. I head to the end of the block and come back at the man, kicking myself into high gear. When I get to him I reach out with one hand and grab the waistband of his jeans. I have no idea how it works, but I learned early on that, whatever it is that protects me from liquefying when I run, pretty much spreads to whatever I can touch. This….. comes in handy as I yank the mugger behind me, heading 12 blocks over towards where I know a Police Station to be.

When I get inside I put the mugger on a bench.

Hmmmmm

I realize that, as static as he appears to be to me, he is in fact still moving. If he tries to get up the Police Officer standing behind that counter might shoot him.

Idea!

One borrowed set of handcuffs later and Mister Mugger is nice and secured. Now to go see to his victim. I look down at what I'm wearing…. this will not do. A quick trip to the house and back finds me standing behind the woman getting ready to speak.

Here goes nothing.

From my seat in the Denny's I watch the woman, Amanda, finally walk out of the Police Station. She takes a few steps towards the parking lot before she comes to a stop, a cross look coming to her face.

That's right, I ran her here. Oops.

I get up and head to the restroom, my backpack going with me. A quick change later and I am standing next to the woman.

"So how did it go?"

I do my best not to giggle as she jumps, then swears at my sudden appearance.

"Pretty good I think. Charges filed and they are keeping the creep. Turns out he had a gun on him. That plus something about a parole violation and it means he gets automatically locked up."

I can't help but smile. Soooo much better than last time. Walking up next to Amanda I move to put the cherry on top.

"I don't suppose you would like a lift back to your car?"

Amanda smiles back at me.

"Oh God yes! I was afraid to ask. I still don't know exactly where we…

….. Are."

By the time she finishes her sentence we are standing next to her car. It is still a bit weird for me to bring people with me when I go zooming around. By all rights I shouldn't be able to carry a person like Amanda. Even standing a petite 5'4", she has to weigh at least 110 pounds. I don't have super strength (I've checked), but when I get to moving, I find that I can kind of sweep people or things up in my wake. When I'm manhandling criminals, or apparently saving damsels in distress, I just kind of catch them in my arms as I go. They are like living statues at my cruising speed, though statues I can manipulate. It makes for convenient mook removal and disposal.

"All part of the service Ma'am."

Amanda flat out laughed at me.

"Was the Ma'am too much?" I feel a little corny, but it seemed appropriate.

"Forgetting the fact that I have to be at least twice your age, I think it is the contrast."

I cock my head to the right a little.

"Contrast?"

Amanda starts to unlock her car, but looks back over her shoulder at me.

"I think I get it, new hero and all, but you have to admit. Dark colors, weird ass teleporting power, moving people around the city at will. You come across like a villian. Maybe the world's nicest villain, but still."

Huh. I look down at my costume. She's…. not wrong.

"Um, first effort? I'll work on it."

Getting into her car Amanda chuckles a little.

"You do that."

Starting the car, she begins to pull away as I stand there and watch. Suddenly the car slams to a halt. The window opens again and Amanda sticks her head out of the window.

"I almost forgot to ask. Is there a name for the hero who saved me?"

I let myself vibrate a little before I answer. This is it, the moment where all of this really becomes real. Electricity faintly crackles around me as I zoom over to her.

"You can call me The Flash."

And with that I am off.

******** Authors Note *******

So this is the end of Arc 1: Spark. Here I'm going to share some of my thoughts on the process / experience / story thus far.

I think writing this has been good for me. Once upon a time I enjoyed writing but, with school and several cross country movies, I just kind of stopped. Starting this and the interaction that I have had with readers has helped to relight the fire a bit.

Overall the experience has been positive as well. I enjoy thinking critically about how a story might unfold. When I run RPG's there is the random element that is Player Character Choice. When I started this I did not realize how much I would miss that, but have still managed to be surprised by some of the places I have gone.

As far as the story thus far goes….. I feel like the key elements are now in place. Taylor has a name, a (somewhat understood) power set, and the beginnings of an independant Cape career. My biggest concern going forward is with how closely I want to cleave to the established sequence of events, or how far into left field I want to go. While I do have an end-game in mind, it is broad enough that I can come at it from a bunch of different directions. There are several fights I want to set up, some of which will go down in an obvious manner, others which I am already rubbing my hands with evil glee when I think about them going off the rails.

The next scheduled post will be in about 2 weeks. Arc 2.1: Conduction. As I said previously, the plan is for most chapters to be about this length going forward. That said, I am kicking around the idea of stacked arcs, where the chapters start out small and get longer as the arc progresses and action builds. We will see how it goes.

Final note: I do have someone doing some light beta reading. As always, feel free to point out problems (spelling, punktuashion, etc) and I will try to fix it. I also have a dear friend who has graciously offered her professional editorial skills… once she finishes reading Worm. So maybe by Arc 3.5


	10. Spark Interlude

Ride the Lightning

Spark Interlude

The fields of the midwest were a golden blur as Legend flew overhead. In point of fact he had slowed his flight just so he could take in the view.

Take in the view and think.

An hour ago he and Eidolon had been visiting Alexandria at the Protectorate Los Angeles HQ. The meeting had not been a light one.

—-

 _An Hour Ago_

"My point Legend is that we are heading towards a confluence of event."

Alexandria spoke the words in a near monotone, arms crossed in front of her, eyes locked on Legend.

"What kind of confluence?"

"The bad kind."

A pause.

"Between regular Endbringer attacks, the movements of the Blasphemies, and the fact that the Slaughterhouse 9 have been quiet for as long as they have, I'm worried that this next year is going to be one of the worst since… well you know when."

Legend frowned as the answer came to mind.

 _Since Hero._

Taking a breath, Legend stood a little straighter as he replied.

"Ok, I get bad, I get that you feel it will be bad, but I don't understand why we are meeting here just so you can say, 'It's going to be bad'? A phone call or email would have worked and you are not known for inefficiency."

Sitting down behind her desk, Alexandria opened a file folder and began to spread its pages out in front of her.

—-

 _Now_

No, all in all it had been a disheartening exchange. Between the plans and… plots Alexandria laid out and the way that Eidolon just kind of nodded along, Legend couldn't shake the idea that the meeting had been a set up, something planned between the other two members of the Triumvirate.

Legend hated the idea that he was being handled.

Letting his eyes drift back to the landscape passing below, he was taken aback by a disturbance to the seemingly flowing waves of grain. At the edge of his sight, at the horizon, grain was blown out and forward as if by some kind of air canon. 5 seconds later he heard the sound.

 **BOOM!**

Out of the explosion a red streak was moving… fast in his general direction.

Squinting, Legend revised that thought.

The red streak was moving in a straight line directly at him.

Coming to a stop, Legend lowered himself until he was hovering about 10 feet off the ground and waited. He did not have to wait long.

A crimson streak blurred towards the hero, bright lightening crackling all around it. At the center of it was a human shape. Before Legend could even finish the thought, "Parahuman?" the streak came to a perfect standstill in front of him. The air instantly filled with some kind of high pitch whining sound, not painful, but a bit distracting.

Legend found himself facing a costumed individual. At least he assumed they were costumed. The… woman? was vibrating so quickly that he couldn't make out any details of appearance. Some combination of golden yellow and hot rod red, a partial facial covering that probably covered the eyes.

Curious but cautious, Legend decided to take the initiative.

"Can I help you…Ma'am?"

It was here that Legend realized the whine for what it was. This person had been yelling to him since she stopped. Now the whine cut out and speech, slower speech, took it's place.

"You have to (unintelligible) him. He's going (unintelligible) the world. Almost out of time."

Legend frowned. He had been frowning entirely too much lately.

"What do you mean? Who's going to do what to the world?"

The figure seemed to vibrate faster. Legend's eyes, seemingly adapted to see so much, so fast, noted parts of her fading completely out of sight. Overall he had a sense that the cape was being pulled somewhere, was barely hanging on.

"You (unintelligible) understand. Alexandria, Eidolon, (unintelligible) (unintelligible) to you. I can't hold (unintelligible)."

The figure looked down and seemed to take in the fact that one of her legs, part of an arm, and the other shoulder had already faded out of existence.

Giving Legend what could only be a plaintive look the figure spoke a final time.

"Shit!"

Legend was alone in the field, the static of ionized air making his hairs stand on end.

*******Arthors Note*******

Here we go, a look ahead. While I hadn't planned on posting this until later, timeline-wise it happens exactly where we are at in the story.

Spark should conclude by this Sunday.


	11. Conduction 1

Ride the Lightning

Conduction 2.1

 **15 February 2011**

Villainous huh? Amanda Wong's observation about my costume was bothering me more than I thought it would. I mean, I get that dark colors were often associated with less savory elements. Mom had spoken about symbolism enough me to pick up on some of it. Still, if I was going to accomplish everything I wanted to, I couldn't afford to be scary to normal citizens. It was enough that the PRT still thought there was a teleporting trouble maker out there.

Bottom line was I needed a new costume.

Good costumes required money and skill. While I had some ability to sew, I don't think that I was up to the task of putting together something that looked good and allowed the degree of athleticism my power put to the test. If I wasn't going to make the costume myself, I would need to find a source with a reasonable assurance of anonymity.

Money was also an issue. Even though Dad tried not to let it show, I knew things were tight. Asking for an allowance, much less one that could finance a costume, would be too much. Still, there had to be a way I could leverage something about my power.

What I needed was a person who was familiar enough with Capes to respect the need for discretion, who was independent of the Protectorate, and who might be open to some kind of barter system.

Three hours later and I was in costume, standing on top of a building near Captain's Hill. Across the street from me was a fairly non-descript brick building. Instead of a sign, there was instead a large stylized needle and thread.

This was Parian's shop. From what I had been able to learn online, Parian was a Rogue, a Cape who avoided both the Hero and Villain labels. She had some kind of power that gave her control over fabric. She was known to sell her services, making large, animated mascots for events, even riding them around town from time to time. There had even been a reference to her wanting to expand her work outside of Brockton Bay. Hopefully this was something I could help her with.

Deciding it was time to test the waters, I ran from the rooftop to the front door of her shop. Coming to a complete stop, I pulled the door open and walked in, a jingling bell announcing my presence.

The inside of the building didn't really have a store feeling to it. There were bolts of fabric all around, large work tables, but no real displays. Along a counter to the right there were a series of black binders. One was propped open, clearly showing photographs of some of Parians work.

From the back a voice called out, "You are a bit early for your 1:00pm appointment, I'm not ready yet. If you could give me a few more…"

The sentence was cut short when the person I assumed to be Parian came through a curtained doorway and took notice of me.

Several things happened in rapid succession. The cloth bolts nearest Parian began to unspool. Cloth flew through the air, taking on amorphous shapes. At the same time a large spool of thread attached to the Rogues back started spinning. Needles flew through the air and set about stitching the indistinct blobs of cloth into more recognizable shapes, one a rhino, the other a bear. Parian herself took a step back and cried out, "I already told the Empire that I am not going to pay for protection! Leave now!"

I threw my hands up in the air in front of me, taking a slight step back.

"Hold up, I come in peace. I'm not the Empire and am not here for protection or anything like that."

Parian cocked her head a bit to the side, the cloth golem creation process continuing without interruption.

"If you are not Empire, who are you and why are you here?"

Well, honesty is the best policy.

"I'm a fairly new hero. I'm called the Flash and, well…" I gestured down at my current costume, "my outfit kind of sucks. I was hoping I could work out a deal with you, trade services a bit."

Parian stood up straight and walked towards me, the nearly complete cloth animals following along. She gave me an appraising look, or at least I assume it was appraising. Full face masks make such determinations difficult at best.

After a full minute she again stepped back away from me.

"You're not wrong."

The rhino and bear, now fully constructed and finished… inflating, each took a few steps back. For her part Parian turned slightly to her side, gesturing towards the curtained doorway she had come through moments before.

"Please join me in my workspace and we will see what we can do for each other."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I walked past her towards the back of the shop, doing my best to project confidence. Entering her workspace, I was taken aback by the amount of projects on display. Fashion mannequins were scattered around the room, interspersed with bolts of cloth, metallic material, large pads of paper with designs tacked to the walls.

Coming up beside me, Parian directed me to a set of chairs pushed back into one corner. There was an awkward moment where we both seemed to wait for the other to sit before I finally lowered myself into one of the deceptively comfortable seats. Crossing one leg demurely over the other, fingers interlaced together in front of her doll like mask, Parian again addressed me.

"I won't support anything illegal. For the most part I also avoid hero types. Overt association can make me more of a target than I already am. With that in mind, what exactly do you want, and what can you give me in return?"

Taking a moment to arrange my pitch, I mirrored Parian's posture and did my best to sound professional.

"Well, it's been pointed out that I look a little like a villain, what with the dark colors and all. I am looking for something functional with bright colors. Also pockets. As far as what I can offer you, well I don't really have much money. Or any money really. That said, I think I can provide a service."

"What service is that?"

Well," I began, a smile creeping into my voice at the same time one came over my face, "I'm fast. Like, really fast. Am I right in thinking that you sometimes need to order specialty items, or send products across the country?"

A nod was my answer.

"And am I also right in thinking that you pay a premium to get these items sent quickly and securely?"

Another nod.

"What if I told you I could get a package, weighing up to about 40 pounds, from here to Los Angeles, in under five hours?"

I swore the eyebrow on her mask quirked up. Probably a trick of the light.

"And how would you do this?"

Smiling even wider I sprang from my chair. A quick dash around the room and I had tidied up several messes, folded loose squares of fabric, neatly arranged some tools on a work bench, and came to a rest leaning against the door frame.

A tick of the clock later I cleared my throat, startling Parian, but allowing her to turn her head and look at me.

"Like I said, I'm _very_ fast."

Friday evening found me making my way into the Brockton Bay Police Departments 9th Precinct station house. Even though I had been here before as the Flash, I was a little intimidated coming in now as Taylor. Making my way through the double doors and into the lobby, I stopped to get my bearings.

Nope, didn't help.

Walking up to the officer at the information window I waited to be acknowledged.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes sir. I'm here for the Explorers Meeting. I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go."

"Explorers huh? Well good to have you. You are going to need to sign in here, then I'll buzz you through that door to your left. You go down the hall to the conference room. It will be the last door on the right, just past the nook with the vending machines."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I walked up and wrote my name on the sign in roster and, after a buzz, went through the door. I walked slowly down the hall, taking in the details. This was a part of the police station, of any police station really, that I had never been in. The hallway itself was clean yet somehow dirty at the same time. Worn, dingy tiles were buffed and shined. Walls which had been painted white several decades ago were covered in nicks and scratches, but also had the look of having been scrubbed clean on a regular basis. The smell of disinfectant hung in the air. There were doors on either side me as I walked forward. Some were labeled. Break Room, Locker Room, Gym. Some just had numbers. Coming to the end of the hall I came up on the aforementioned vending machine nook. It had an ancient looking soda machine, $0.50 a can. There was a coffee machine, a hot soup dispenser, and a microwave. A bulletin board held tacked up notices for in service training, recertification courses, an organizational day, and a camping retreat. Getting up my nerve, I left the nook and went to the last door on the right.

It was closed. Why did it have to be closed? Turning the knob, I opened the door and walked in.

Entering the room I saw a five rows of desks. Old fashioned, the kind that is basically a seat with a writing surface that folds down on the side when not in use. There was an honest to goodness overhead projector in the back of the room. At the front was a dry erase board and a podium.

I was not alone in the room. There four of the desks had occupants. Three guys and a girl, apparently ranging in age from early teenager to probably young adult. They each had on a dark blue uniform, a patch on the left shoulder spelling out "BBPD Explorer." In the place where an officer would wear a badge, there was instead the scout symbol. At the front of the room, behind the podium, was an actual police officer, arraigning some papers. In a moment that could have been pulled from any number of movies or tv shows, all five heads in the room turned to look at me as I came in.

Shit.

"Um, is this the Explorers meeting?"

The officer at the front took pity on me. Coming around the podium, he walked over to me and offered me his hand. I took it, receiving a firm shake and an honest smile in addition to an answer.

"Yes it is. My name is Officer Govarts, I'm the Post Leader and liaison to the BBPD. Glad to have you here Ms…"

"Hebert. Taylor Hebert."

Glad that I had found my voice I answered while returning his shake. Dropping his hand, Officer Govarts turned towards the desks. Again taking notice of the rest of the room, I couldn't help but notice that the other people in the room had left their desks and were walking over. Govarts placed a hand on my shoulder and turned me towards the approaching Explorers.

"Well Taylor, let's go ahead and get through some introductions."

The oldest looking Explorer came up to me and offered his hand. He looked to be about 19 or 20 years old. Standing a little taller than me, he had a lean, athletic look about him. Close cropped red hair, freckles standing out on pale skin, his uniform pressed and immaculately clean. His name tag proclaimed him to be "Trent."

"Good to meet you. My name is Matt, but you'll find that we are all pretty much on last names here, so you can call me Trent if you want. I'm the senior Explorer in this post and can answer any questions you may have."

"Nice to meet you Trent."

Releasing my hand, Trent walked back towards his desk as the next member came up. She looked my age and was pretty in that indescribable way that some girls are. No one attribute stood out, but taken together, her dark hair, dusky skin, green eyes, and upturned nose just worked. I noted the nametag that said "Day." Day took my hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Marie Day. Like Trent over there said, we are all about the last names here, so please call me Day. I can't wait to learn more about you."

Oh yay.

Letting go, Day walked back to her desk as well. Next up was a short guy, thick black hair slicked back and plastered against his head, a wirily uni-brow hung over dark eyes. He had a hard look about him, and as he offered me his hand, I noted what looked like the edge of a tattoo creeping past his wrist, sticking out from under his sleeve. He introduced himself in a surprisingly quiet voice.

"My name is Angel Lopez, or just Lopez around here." With that he was gone.

The final Explorer in the room had a handsome look about him. Brown hair with a professional cut, not military short like Trent's had been, but not long and overly controlled like Lopez. He had an easy smile and, when he took my hand, the gesture had a practiced ease to it. In a warm, full voice, he introduced himself.

"Rory Christner, pleasure to meet you. I can't wait to learn more about you Taylor."

When the meeting concluded, Officer Govarts asked me to hang back a bit. Waiting in my desk, I waved at my fellow members as they made their exits. After Christner left, Officer Govarts came over and pulled one of the desks around so that it was facing mine. Folding back the writing surface he took a seat.

"So Taylor, now that it is just the two of us, I was wondering if I could find out a little more about you and what it is you want to get out of the Explorers program. I don't know if you could tell from the full house that we had, but this program isn't exactly the most popular after school activity in Brockton Bay."

A little chuckle accompanied that last remark. I had figured I would get asked a question like this. As much as I regretted having to lie, it seemed to be built into the hero experience for everyone who wasn't New Wave. Still, when lying to someone trained in interrogations, I felt it best to hew as closely to the truth as possible.

"I live in one of the…. not nice parts of the city. Everyday I hear about the problems of crime, gangs and drugs, bullies and full blown villains. Everyone complains about how bad things are, how bad the city is becoming, but no one can really say why. I guess I felt that, if anyone understands the challenges to law and order in Brockton Bay, it's going to be the police department."

Officer Govarts gave me a calculating look; I was actually made a little nervous by it.

"Well Taylor that is a well thought out answer. The point of this program is to increase civic mindedness, expose you to the realities of law enforcement as opposed to what you see in movies, and prepare you to enter adulthood as a well rounded citizen. I think that these goals mesh well with your stated reasons, so in that regard I am looking forward to having you as part of this Post."

Standing up, he again offered his hand to me. I stood and took it. I was going to be a pro at handshakes by the time this was all said and done.

"On your way out do talk to the desk Sergeant. He will help you pick up your issued uniform, patches, and police scanner. He will also give you list of other required and suggested items. I'll see you at the next meeting?"

Walking out of the room I turned back.

"Wouldn't miss it."

Monday morning found me at the public library. Two hours of glacial reading and typing and I had managed to finish the next three days worth of study material. I had submitted today's and managed to set up emails to submit Tuesdays and Wednesdays as soon as I logged in. With that done, I had an appointment to keep.

I walked out of the library and pulled out the phone that Parian had given me. Well, not given so much as insisted I use as part of my courier job. In addition to letting her get in touch with me when she needed something picked up or delivered, it had a map function on it. Even with my ability to retain information, being able to use MapLocator to plan out my routes made the trips go smoother.

Stepping into an alley I looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Not seeing anyone, I took off for home at a brisk pace. A quick change and I was heading for Parian's shop, in my old costume for hopefully the last time.

The door closed behind me with the tinkling of the bell, something I let happen so that I wouldn't startle my boss…. collaborator? From the back her voice rang out.

"Flash, is that you?"

"The one and only," I called back. Walking through the curtains into the back workspace I came to a dead stop.

"What do you think?"

Parian sat in one of her comfy chairs. In front of her was a mannequin. On it… my costume. I walked up to it, taking off my glove and reaching out to touch it. The pants were red, not bright, but not super dark either. The top was a zip up jacket, gold with red sleeves. There were gold boots and gloves that matched the gold of the jacket. On a table next to it was the mask. Also gold in color, it was mostly a set of goggles, the lenses of which should match my prescription. A chin strap was incorporated into the mask. All told it should allow my hair to be free, but also subtly change the shape of my face while covering my cheekbones.

In the center of the jacket there was a white circle with a lightning bolt across it.

"This is…. This is exactly what I wanted!" Do you mind if I try it on?"

Parian inclined her head towards me.

"Of cour…..

….se not."

I stood in front of the her in the new costume, faintly vibrating with excitement. If I smiled any wider I think my head would break in half.

"I do not believe I will ever get used to that. Still, it looks good on you. I like your smile."

Blushing just a little, I mumbled out a thanks.

"Now, to business. On the back table is a pattern sample I would like delivered to S&J Fabric House is Dallas, Texas. I have made some overtures towards their head of design and she has expressed interest in seeing what I can do. How soon do you think you can get this sample to her?"

I walked over to the table in question and found a package wrapped in paper and bound in twine. There was an address written on the packaging. Typing it into my phone I pulled up a route.

"Hmmm, if I stick to the interstate, it is just under 1,800 miles. I think I can make it there and back in about 4 hours. Depends on if I do any sightseeing on the way back."

"So there is two hours? That is perfect. I will let her know to expect the delivery. As discussed, please do not reveal yourself in costume. You should change upon arrival, and present yourself as a local courier who received the package from _unnamed_ associate." Making this delivery for me will fulfil one quarter of your debt for the costume."

All of this was said in a very dry, business-like manner. After a pause, Parian stood and allowed the formality to bleed out of her body language.

"I have enjoyed working on your costume though, and do hope that we can continue to associate beyond our arrangement."

Giving her a two fingered salute I smiled, glad that she could finally see it when I did so.

"Me too. For now though, I have a package to deliver."

And with that I was gone.

It was early evening, and most of the buildings occupants were either headed home for the night or were cycling through meal breaks in their schedules. On the 4th floor though, one man was bent over a bench, eyes narrowed in concentration. A slight buzzing sound let him know that the solitude of his workspace was about to be disturbed. Still, this was a disturbance that he welcomed, as unusual as that was.

"Colin, could I have a moment of your time?"

Sitting up straight and stretching his back, Armsmaster turned slightly to face the monitor from which the voice came. He knew a camera there would be feeding back a real time image of himself.

"Go ahead Dragon, I was pretty close to wrapping up anyway."

"Thank you. I noticed something unusual today that seems to have Brockton Bay as a focal point, I thought I should bring it to your attention."

Frowning, more from habit than consternation, Armsmaster inclined his head, signaling Dragon to continue.

On the screen an image appeared, a highway map of the United States. A series of red dots appeared, mostly along the interstates, stretching between Brockton Bay and… Dallas, Texas.

"What am I looking at Dragon?"

"As you know, one of the duties I have appointed myself is to monitor for Parahuman activity which has the potential to impact multiple jurisdictions. Forewarned is forearmed as it were. Today I noted a cell phone pinging off of the towers displayed on the screen. The first ping was off of a tower located in Brockton Bay. This was at 10:13 this morning. The final ping before the phone was shut off was also in Brockton Bay, at 2:49 this afternoon. As you can see, in the interim, this same phone apparently traveled halfway across the country and back."

Realization made Armsmaster sit up straighter.

"A teleporter?"

"Maybe, but I'm not so sure. If it was a teleporter I would expect more regularity in the spacing between towers, something that would give a hint as to range limitations, line of sight requirements or some other factor."

Again the frown.

"If not a teleporter, then what?"

"The reason I waited so long to get in touch with you. I ended up having to review refresh cycles on the cellular data network and compared it to timestamps on traffic cameras along the route. This is what I have come up with."

The map was replaced by three pictures. Each was a snapshot of traffic. One was labeled Columbus, Ohio. The second listed Evansville, Kentucky. The third Plano, Texas.

"What am I looking at Dragon?"

Each image resolved further. Graphics appeared on the Columbus image, a black circle around a slight red smudge. The smudge was at ground level. The Evansville image received a similar treatment, another smudge circled. This one was higher, even with the roof of a car near it. The Plano image also had its requisite circle and smudge.

Finally a fourth image appeared. The circled regions from the first three images were copied to the fourth, then composited. The rough shape of a person appeared. Indistinct, missing most body parts, smears of red and gold.

"Colin, we are looking at, I believe, a Parahuman who does not teleport, but instead runs. Based on the timestamps involved, it seems Brockton Bay is currently playing host to someone who can seemingly reach at least 800 miles per hour."

******** Authors Note***********

Well this was an adventure to write. My work schedule is a bit weird. I work a 2/2/3 schedule. One week I will work Monday, Tuesday, be off Wednesday, Thursday, then work Friday, Saturday, Sunday. The following week is the opposite. This works out to me having every other Friday-Saturday-Sunday off. When I decided on a 2 week posting cycle, it was with the idea that I would use my days off to work on chapters, with my Friday off to finish anything not done.

Well we all know how well plans hold up. This past 2 week period my riding lawnmower broke, so I spent my days off mowing almost 2 acres with a push mower, killing some snakes I found, and getting called in for mandatory training / extra shifts. Still I got this done and have managed to get the minimum length I wanted. I'm still waiting on my intended editor to finish Worm so she can start on my stuff, so I do acknowledge that this has only had the most cursory of editing. If you see anything that is just so wrong it bothers you, feel free to *constructively* post it in a comment and I will try to fix it.

On the content itself, this chapter is mostly set up. Costume? Check. Explorers? Joined. Heroic Cameo-in-Civilian-Identity? Done. Halbeard? Not a tool… yet.


	12. Conduction 2

Ride the Lightning

Conduction 2.2

It was Wednesday morning and I was finishing up another run for Parian. This time I had been delivering a prototype to an outfitter in Los Angeles. The plus side to this delivery schtick is that, once my package is dropped off, I have a backpack's worth of space for souvenirs. In this case I had a spider in amber from the La Brea Tar Pits and a t-shirt from the Grand Canyon.

Coming back into Brockton Bay I couldn't help but to marvel at the still life image the city presented. As fast as I am moving, pedestrians become statues, cars slowly crawl up and down the streets. In the sky an airplane was moving along at a steady if not overly fast clip. The sky wasn't pristine though.

There was smoke in it.

I took off in the direction of the docks, passing several firetrucks on the way. Shooting through the boardwalk, I crossed over into the Eastern Slums. The whole area was filled with run down buildings. Once upon a time they were low income housing, rented by the poor with the aid of government subsidies. Over the last 20 years those subsidies dried up. With the tanking of the local economy, the already poor area got worse. Now this was Merchant territory.

While I am not one to lay every problem in the City at Parahuman feet, in this case it seemed warranted. Rounding a block I came up on the source of the smoke. Three tenement buildings were engulfed in flames. The source of the fire was on display in the street in front of the buildings. A tall man in ragged clothes stood in front of the center building. The ground around him was covered in a strangely pulsing blue haze of some kind. A mask covered the top half of his face.

This must be Skidmark.

All around the Cape were other members of his gang. They had guns and knives in their hands, one heaving what I'm sure was a molotov cocktail. Their targets were a group of skinheads across the street. Five young men, shaved heads, multiple piercings, black combat boots. A couple had red laces. This group was also armed, handguns and a shot gun evident. Standing on the hood of a truck behind the skinheads was a fairly well built man in loose pants with a tiger mask on his face.

Stormtiger.

I just ran into the middle of a gang fight with capes involved.

Shit.

One problem at a time. As decrepit as this part of the city is, I'm pretty sure people live in these buildings. As heroic as the fire department is, there is no way they are going to be putting out a fire or doing search and rescue in the middle of a cape fight. Skirting behind the Merchants, I headed into the first building. At six stories in height it only took a few moments to go through.

Like so many things, fire gets really weird when viewed at super speed. Flames crawled slowly up the walls. I could tell that the place was hot, in so far as the air pressure felt different as I moved through it. Still my power apparently protected me from the direct effects of the heat. The first couple of floors were deserted, though there were signs of habitation. Apparently those near the fight left while the gettin was good. On the third floor I entered an apartment to find a young woman I assumed to be a mother cowering in an empty bathtub with a child who couldn't be older than 3. Since she had a tight hold on the child I grabbed the woman by her shoulders and pulled her out the tub, through the apartment, down the burning stairs, past the gangbangers and down the block. Stopping at a vacant lot I had passed on my way to the fire I left the pair there. A quick detour back to the slowly approaching firetruck and I was able to locate a roll of incident tape; like crime scene tape, but less accusatory. I made sure to mark the vacant lot with the tape on my way back to the fire. Four more trips through the flaming buildings and I was able to leave the vacant lot behind me with 10 people, three cats and a ferret in it.

Elapsed time on scene: 90 seconds.

It's kind of scary how much can happen in such a short period of time.

While I had been searching flaming buildings for people to evacuate, the gang fight had continued. Coming back to the center of the conflict I could see that one of the Empire thugs had taken a shot in the left shoulder, blood crawling out of the entry wound as he fell backwards and twisted to the side. Stormtiger was moving his right arm in a slashing motion while across the street two Merchants had left the ground, drifting backwards towards the buildings while ribbons of red misted into the air from rends in their shirts.

This was going to get lethal fast if I didn't stop it.

Taking a moment to examine the situation, I decided it was a question of priorities. The Capes were the most dangerous element of this fight, so taking them out first caused the greatest reduction in threat the fastest. That said, the normal (or as normal as fanatical junkies and nazi's could be considered to be) gang members were also the most vulnerable. If I removed them, I could then deal with Skidmark and Stormtiger in a more creative way. Decision made I got to work.

Priority 1, gunshot victim. I raced behind Stormtiger and grabbed the guy, and rocket back towards the responding Fire Trucks. They are now only 20 or so blocks away, but I can tell they are slowing down. Apparently I was right and word of Cape involvement has them staging a safe distance away. I come to a stop in the middle of the road, far enough away the the lead truck has enough time to stop. Laying the Empire goon down in the road I rush to the truck and grab a guy in a blue helmet that says MEDIC on the front. A second later and we are standing over the victim, the fireman a bit unsteady on his feet. I put everything I have into projecting a confident appearance.

"I evacuated this guy from the gang fight slash tenement fire slash cape fight going on down the street. Single gunshot to left shoulder, no exit wound. Also, I evacuated the buildings that are burning. Also, I'm going to clear out the remaining criminals so you guys can get in and help. Also I've said also too much haven't I? AnywaygottarunohI'mTheFlashbytheway!"

Nailed it!

Rushing back to the fight I congratulate and chastise myself at the same time. Good decision making, nice save…. And I took way too long to turn around and head back. The reality of that realization hits home when I watch a Merchant go down.

Standing a short distance away was the Skinhead holding the shotgun. He was pointing the Merchant who was now laying on the ground, hands clasped over his gut. Red blood was leaking slowly between his fingers, a fine mist of it in the air. An empty shell was falling from the ejection port on the side of the weapon. My eyes widened as I saw the kids finger start to tighten on the trigger. He was going to blast the downed guy again.

I shot forward, exerting myself for the first time in ages. As my foot hit the ground the trigger reached the point of no return. A supersonic CRACK sounded as a shell was discharged in the chamber of the shot gun. The weapon had been fired, I was now racing an explosion.

Five steps in and I had crossed two thirds of the distance between me and the gunman. His shoulder was just starting to rock backwards with the kick of the shotgun. The end of the barrel had the first licks of flame coming out of it.

Another step, pushing harder. I could see a pellet edging slowly from the end of the barrel. More would be following soon. I reached out with both of my arms.

Another step and I was almost between the rival gang members. With my left hand I reached out and grabbed the shoulder of the Merchants denim jacket. With my right hand I reached for the barrel of the gun.

Another step. Whatever it was about my power that let me move without burning up in the air, I felt it envelop the Merchant I held, jerking him along with me. To my right the shotgun was now pointing straight up. Only a few pellets of shot had been able to escape before my redirection.

Across the street I slowed down enough to actually check out my Junkie. Time sped back up around me. The roar of the shotgun blast rolled through the air. The gangbanger at my feet groaned and what had been a slow trickle of blood at superspeed proved to be a gushing torrent in real time. With a regretful look back at the on going fight I again grabbed the shot kid and headed for medic. I deposited gunshot victim number 2 right next to number 1.

"ThisManWasShotAndIsBleedingOutIHaveToGo!"

I pushed myself the whole way back to the fight. No one else was getting shot over whatever bullshit the gangs were fighting over. I zigzagged back and forth across the street. 15 blocks away a police car suddenly pulled up on two piles of weapons. Each one had a sticky note attached to it with a description of the person I took it from. The police car was just starting to slow to a stop so as not to run into the piles of weapons when the back seat was suddenly filled. Less Nazi's, so they got to go in the police car. I headed back to the fight leaving 5 mostly grown men sitting handcuffed in each others laps in the back of the police car.

Another four passes through the scene of the fight and I had managed to remove all of the normal Merchants. They were also secured to the police car. In this case, trusty duct tape came to the rescue and I had taped them to the hood.

Burning building evacuated. Gang members disarmed and delivered to law enforcement. Now, the capes.

This was another decision point. As I came back to the fight I could tell that both Skidmark and Stormtiger had noticed they were alone. From their perspective their allies weapons had vanished, followed by the allies themselves a few moments later. Even with masks obscuring their faces I could tell that they were both spooked. Skidmark was yelling…. Something. I would have to slow down to hear it and I wasn't ready to do that yet. Stormtiger was wary, having taken his eyes off of Skidmark and was now looking into the sky. He probably thought some flying cape had come through and wooshed his men away. Of the two, Stormtiger was probably the most dangerous, so he got to go first. Running up behind the Empire Cape I reared back and punched him in the back of the head. Not the hardest punch in the world, but with enough speed….

Stormtiger tilted forward, his body stretching out in a taught line as he came up onto his toes. I zipped to the side and slowed down to gauge the result of the punch. Moving at what was probably half speed I watched his toes barely leave the ground before the arc completed and Stormtiger fell forward onto his face. Accelerating again I grabbed the goon and hauled him down towards the police car. Already the two officers were out of the vehicle, one looking perplexed, the other with a slowly dawning, knowing look. Coming to a halt in front of the pair I dropped Stormtiger at my feet.

"Officer Parish, Officer Neal, I know you aren't PRT, but I have Stormtiger from the Empire here. I think he is out for now, no telling how long he will stay that way. Do you think you can keep him contained while I go try and get Skidmark? The gang members around us plus these two are what caused the fire."

There, that wasn't too fast.

Officer Parish, an older cop I had seen around the station on several occasions, both as Taylor and as The Flash, was the first to recover.

"Sure Flash, I have just the thing. Go take care of business."

Parish gave me a little salute with his right hand as he drew a taser with his left. I was already turning to head back as I saw him nudge Officer Neal, a jerk of his head indicating the younger officer needed to draw his taser as well.

I allowed myself a little bit of tunnel vision as I headed back for Skidmark. At this point everything was essentially done, grabbing the Merchant leader is just icing on the cake. I would get him the same way I got Stormtiger, a quick pop in the back of the head, then call it a day. Running along the sidewalk in front of the burning building, I made a sharp right hand turn and wound up for my punch. Then everything went wrong.

My foot hit the edge of the blue haze on the ground around Skidmark and I felt like I was running through tar. Everything sped up and slowed down at the same time. Noise came rushing back to my ears as I moved slow enough to no longer have to deal with the doppler effect. I was pushing myself hard, my fist still flying forward… only to lightly tap Skidmark on the back of his head. The Dealer turned around in mild surprise as I felt myself come to a complete stop… right before I was shot backwards, away from the Villain and into the burning building at what had to be at least 800 miles per hour. My last view of Skidmark was of his shit eating grin, bad teeth, and hand held up in a mocking little wave. Then I was slamming through walls as I flew through the burning building.

I was dreaming. I think I was dreaming. I was immense, so large that distance was meaningless, infinity ceased to be something endless, instead becoming a small and discreet part of my greater whole. All around me, within me, lightning flashed. A surging flow of energy permeating this place that was everywhere at once, yet also apart.

I was hot.

I was burning.

I WAS BURNING!

My eyes snapped open. I was laying in the rubble of one of the buildings. Skidmark's…. skidmark had thrown me backwards, leaving me laying in debris looking at a couple of vaguely Flash shaped holes in the walls in front of me. All around me the fire raged. Instinct being what it is, in the moment I realized I was burning I lept out of the fire, blurring forward a short distance.

Fuck fire hurts. Out in the street I can't see Skidmark anymore. Dashing back out I circle the block, then a four block area, then a ten block area. I don't know how long I was out, but the fucker apparently had enough of it to get out of the area.

Looking down at my burned arm, already blistered, I murmured to myself.

"Next time."

Running back towards the fire engines I first stopped at one of the police cars.

"Officer Parish, the area is clear, you can let Fire know it's safe to enter."

While Officer Parish acknowledged my report, it was not in the manner I was expecting.

"Great to hear it Flash, but I can't give the all clear. Capes were involved, it's down to the PRT and Protectorate."

"... seriously?"

"Seriously. Word is a couple of Protectorate capes are on their way, should be here in the next five minutes or so."

As if choreographed, Officer Parish and I both turned our heads back towards the ever growing fire just in time to see a column of flame lurch into the air as another building caught. I locked eyes with Parish.

"Five minutes huh?"

"Flash what are you going to do?"

At least that is what I assume she said. I was already standing directly in front of the conflagration, heat rolling off of it, the air thick with smoke.

Ok, time to put out a fire. What do I have to work with.

Superspeed.

But my superspeed is weird. When I use it I think I break physics a little. Otherwise I would wear out my boots, would rip out my arms when I tried to move 200 plus pound criminals around like lawn furniture. Still, I had to be able to do something.

My hair caught in a thermal draft coming from the fire, billowing around my face for just a moment before a cool breeze came in.

A cool breeze.

Reaching forward with my right arm, I began to make circles with it, waxing on if you will. I started at normal speed and then accelerated, but only my arm. Sure enough it moved so fast it became an almost invisible blur, but only a slight breeze came from it. Closing my eyes, I took a moment and thought about all of the times I've used my power so far. What stood out, what was different?

Shit.

Sophia Fucking Hess.

I had reached for her in the school, right before I got out of there. I was moving at speed, but pushed against her in a weird way. The sensation was similar to the feeling of moving objects at speed, but with a weird resistance to it. Remembering that feeling, I started spinning my arm again, my hair again moving in the breeze. Crackles of golden sparks began to move up and down my arm and, as it reached speed, a gale force wind blasted out of it.

So today I learned that I can modify how much I break physics with my power.

I also learned what happens when you blast air into a fire.

It gets bigger.

The column of air shot into the broken open doors of the central building (thank you Skidmark) and another fireball erupted.

I stopped moving my arm. Right idea, wrong approach. Moving air was the key though. And of course, if more air equals a bigger fire…..

I started running around the block. The buildings were empty, that worry already taken care of. As I built speed I focussed on that feeling and in an instant my sensation of running changed. There was now an element of resistance to it. My cheeks wavered against the air, my hair tugged at my scalp. I knew my power was still protecting me if these were the only indications of what I was doing.

5 laps, 20 laps, 100 laps, 1000 laps. Around the building so fast that the flames almost froze in mid air. Again the column of wind, but this time it went up, out of the fire and into the sky. The flames crawling after it. About sixty seconds in real time and the flames were gone. Another 120 seconds to get the coals good and suffocated so that when I stop the sudden influx of air doesn't reignite them.

Stopping in front of the building I actually collapse forward a little, my hands going to my knees. I'm slightly out of breath. Fucking with physics is hard work. Still, I look up at the no longer burning buildings, all around me where the gang fight had been going on as recently as five minutes ago, and I can't help but laugh.

The Flash saved the day.

Something wet hit me from behind. I tried to turn around to see what it was, but realized my foot was stuck. Looking down I watched in horror as my feet were encased in a rapidly expanding clump of foam. Realization hit at the same time the voice called out.

"Unknown Parahuman, you are being detained at the scene of a crime. Please cooperate."

The PRT had finally shown up.

******Authors Note******

Well that took a long time to get out. Over the last month I have been going through a rather involved hiring process. Bad news: That plus my current job took all of my brain space. Good news: I got the job and start in a couple of weeks. I will have several days off in a row before I start, so I expect (fingers crossed) to get another chapter or two out in the very near future. We will see.

Thoughts on this one. I had 3 different versions of this. What you just read has DNA from all 3. Version 1 was a big gang fight (E88 vs ABB). Version 2 had Taylor coming back from LA and, instead of seeing smoke, seeing Velocity instead. Version 3 was rescuing people from a fire instead of fighting a crime. I ultimately decided I liked parts from each of them, so wrote this version. I'm going to post it now, as always please feel free to (politely) point out errors, I will correct them as they are posted. This is rough (much coffee/redbull has gone into its creation), and will all get looked at again in the (later) am.


	13. Conduction 3

Ride the Lightning

Conduction 2.3

Something wet hit me from behind. I tried to turn around to see what it was, but realized my foot was stuck. I looked down and watched in horror as my foot was encased in a rapidly expanding clump of foam. Realization hit at the same time the voice called out.

"Unknown Parahuman, you are being detained at the scene of a crime. Please cooperate."

The PRT had finally shown up.

Two modified SUV's and what could only be called an armored personnel carrier had pulled up at the end of the street while I had allowed myself to be distracted. Even as I stood there, uniformed PRT agents continued to spill out of the vehicles. All chain mail body armor and exotic weapons, full face masks hid their faces. The speaker was a similarly attired figure, standing closer to me than the rest. A surly man of 6'2 and thick as an oak tree. He didn't look to be someone I wanted to antagonize. At his side stood a shorter figure, containment foam sprayer in his hands, bits of foam continued to drip from the end of the barrel.

A quick tug of my leg was proof enough to me that, short of extra effort, I wasn't going anywhere. With a sigh I straightened my back and crossed my arms in front of my chest. Cocking my head slightly to the side I locked eyes with the figure who spoke and shrugged. I had to be very careful here, if I gave the wrong impression now, it could make my future career… difficult.

Taking my lack of aggression into account, I assumed, the officer began walking towards me.

"I'm Agent Jay Murray, PRT. We were dispatched to this location for a reported Parahuman fight in progress. Would you care to identify yourself and tell us what you are doing here?"

Wow, seriously? For the last two weeks I've been delivering criminals to various police stations, squad cars, and one mall security office. Officer Govarts had seriously been underselling interagency communication issues if they didn't know who I was. Again I reached for that air of confidence and professionalism that I desperately needed to pull this off.

"I'm an independant hero, you can call me The Flash. As to what I'm doing here, well I stopped a gang fight and put out a fire. Helped the police take Stormtiger into custody too."

Gesturing around the empty street with both arms I looked at the buildings, then back at Agent Murray.

"I accomplished my mission, but, and trust me I'm not trying to be needy here, could you please get me out of this goop? I kind of have things I need to do."

Agent Murray's eyebrows started to come together in a scowl, but whatever he was about to say was lost as a figure in red came bounding into view, the upper half of his face hidden behind a visor.

Assault had arrived on scene.

I have to admit, even if it's only to myself, that I was a little starstruck. Sure, I've been doing the hero thing for a couple of weeks now; yes I've been working with Parian… but this was my first meeting with a bonafide Hero.

Walking up to Agent Murray, Assault clapped the larger PRT officer on the shoulder.

"Already have someone in custody?"

Yep, first meeting with a bonafide hero…. and he thought I was under arrest as a villain.

A look of frustration briefly flickered over Agent Murray's face before he composed himself. An almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulder dislodged Assaults hand.

"No one is under arrest. We arrived on scene and Agent Walterson," here he nodded his head towards the agent still pointing a foam sprayer in my general direction, "elected to foam the only Cape on scene so that we could ask her some questions."

"It's kind of annoying too, just saying."

Wiggling my toes inside my boot, the back of my mind was already working on ways that I may get myself out of this sort of predicament in the future. Maybe the extremely near future.

Assault shot Agent Walterson a cross look before walking over to me. Up close I had to admit he looked the part of a hero. A red costume hugged his body, not so tight as to be obscene, but enough to let me know the man was in excellent shape. I couldn't help but grin a little as I noticed that, as good looking as his costume was, mine was better. Parain does excellent work.

"So young lady, would you like to tell me who you are and what exactly happened here?" The question came with a single hand on his hip and a quirky little smile.

Opening by calling me young lady had all of the hallmarks of condescension; something about his voice and body language though… it didn't read that way. Still, I could tell that I was going to get tired of telling the same story over and over again.

"I'm-an-independant-hero, you-can-call-me-The-Flash. I-stopped-a-gang-fight-and-put-out-a fire. Helped-the-police-take-Stormtiger-into-custody."

There if I have to say it over and over again, at least they will all get the same answer.

"The Flash huh?"

Assault closed the rest of the distance between us. Standing next to me he leaned in close and in a mock conspiratorial whisper asked, "What is it exactly that you can do? For the record, I'm pretty sure you are a minor, so please let me know in advance if you using your power will result in all of us ending up on a watchlist."

A watchlist? What in the world could he mean by….. Oh. Thank God for a mask that covers my ear, because I'm pretty sure they went incandescent with the realization.

While I was busy blushing through my mask, Agent Murray literally face palmed while Walterson and a few of the other near by agents shook with mostly suppressed laughter.

Standing up straight, Assault took a couple of steps back, reestablishing some professional distance between us.

"Breaking up a gang fight, fire fighting and capturing an Empire heavy hitter on your first night out? All and all a pretty stellar coming out party. Still, the bureaucracy must be fed. If I get these fine officers behind me to dissolve that foam, do you think you could hang out for a little bit and answer some questions for the incident reports?"

"So there Kaiser was, surrounded by enough metal spikes that you could be forgiven for thinking you had walked into a grunge video from the 1990's, shouting all of the normal nonsense about purity, race traitors and such. I had taken a steel girder to the knee and was out of commision, Battery was out of town for a conference, Miss Militia was still outside keeping Menja and Frenja pinned down. Right when it looks like we are all going to be checking out, Armsmaster walks right up to Kaiser and says, 'You know, this will work out for the best if you just surrender now. We might even be able to get you a reduced sentence.' Kaiser goes quiet for a minute, just dead stop. He looks over at me on the ground, looks at Armsmasters broken halberd, hears the sounds of gunfire from the fighting outside…. And just busts out laughing. Solid minute of it. Finally he wipes his eyes and says to Armsmaster, 'You know what, I think we've had enough for today, I surrender.' He held his hands up in front of him ready to be cuffed."

"Sure enough, Armsmaster pulls out a set of cuffs and walks right up to him… and was promptly bludgeoned in the back of the head by a steel beam erupting from the floor. Kaiser calmly walked past him, gave me a nod, then left the building."

Assault held his coffee cup up to the waitress for a refill before continuing.

"Armsmaster has been a bit paranoid ever since."

The waitress chuckled in such a way as to imply she had heard this particular story before. For his part, Assault was leaning back in the booth with a big grin on his face. Next to him sat a young girl in a mostly green costume, wavy lines decorating the skirt of it. Vista, a member of Brockton Bay's Wards. I didn't know exactly how old she was, those details were not disclosed to the public for obvious reasons, but seeing her in person gave me the impression of someone who was younger than myself. In this instance, the young Ward was slurping a strawberry milkshake through a straw with her elbows on the table, content to watch the back and forth between Assault and myself.

Sitting back upright and setting his coffee cup back on the table, Assault took on a slightly more serious air.

[ ]

"Well enough war stories for the day. I'm going to apologize again, all official like, for the screw up with the containment foam. Sometimes those PRT guys get a little jumpy; still not sure why they thought they could lock down a teleporter with glorified glue."

I put my cup of tea down and wiped my mouth with a napkin.

"Actually, I'm not a teleporter. I'm just really, really fast."

That seemed to take the hero aback for a moment.

"Seriously? Because I talked to the police and firemen. According to them your MO is to just appear with criminals already secured. That cop on scene today told me that you teleported 5 of the gangbangers _into_ the backseat of his patrol car. Don't get me wrong, I get being fast. I'm pretty fast myself, and don't get me started on Velocity."

Here Assault made a vague up and down gesture towards me.

"But your what, 120 pounds soaking wet and you're telling me that you grabbed those guys and just _ran down the road carrying them_ before stacking them neatly in the back of a police car, all so fast that no one was aware it had happened?"

[ ]

I gave a little shrug of my shoulders.

Then I jumped as Assault slammed his palm down on the table, Vista also making a little squeak of annoyance before shooting Assault a dirty look. Assault himself had burst out laughing.

"Oh my God, I can't wait for you to run into Velocity, like literally run into him. The man is going to, and pardon my language here, shit a brick, when you leave him eating your dust."

Again I can't help but to shrug.

"It's not like it's a competition. Plus he has years and experience on me, I'm sure Velocity can do all kinds of things with his power that haven't occurred to me to try."

Composing himself again, Assault took another sip of coffee.

"You're not wrong. Alright, cards on the table. We knew there was a new hero operating in the city, that much had filtered up from the local Police Department. Reports of a teleporter, sometimes in a black costume, sometimes in something red and gold. Now that I've met you, I need to give you the company line."

My shoulders slumped just a bit as I sighed.

"You're going to ask me to join the Wards aren't you?"

Assault winked at me while making a little shooting motion with his right index finger.

[ ]

"Got it in one. Don't worry, I'm not here to give you the hard sell, and I'm not going to ask you to make up your mind right now. I just want you to be aware of the option and to think about the opportunity. Training, a paycheck, college fund, assured backup for if things get really hairy out there, and people your own age who can understand what it's like to not only have powers, but to use them the way you are."

Vista perked up here. It was obviously time for the peer based sales pitch.

"Being a Ward is mostly a good thing. Like Assault said, we get plenty of chances to use our powers and go catch bad guys. At the same time, we patrol in groups and they keep us away from the really dangerous areas unless it's an all hands on deck kind of situation. I think you might like it."

Man it was hard to say no to Vista.

"Look, it's not that I have anything against the Protectorate, or the Wards. That said, I can think of a few reasons for not joining."

"I'm all ears, lay them on me."

"Ok, in no particular order except for the last one….

Joining the Wards would mean telling my Dad about me being a Cape. I'm not saying I never plan on doing so, but I'm not ready to do it yet. Also, and Vista I don't want you to think this is about you, because so far you've been great, but I don't like the idea of having to spend my time with a group of hormonal teenagers all suped up on powers. High School has enough drama in it all on it's own. Finally….Assault, please reach under your chair. You'll find a sticky note there."

Looking a bit confused, Assault nevertheless reached under the chair and came up with a yellow sticky note. He spent a moment reading it before putting it on the table and giving me a hard, appraising look.

"Really?"

Vista leaned over to get a look.

"What is it?"

Addressing myself to the Ward, I explained.

"While we have been sitting here, I've been listening to a police scanner through an earpiece in my mask. Written on that note pad are three dispatches that came through over the last 5 minutes. I'll be back in 5."

With that I was out the door.

The first dispatch was to an armed robbery in progress at the S&P Market Place on the corner of Jay and Burgundy. I headed there first. Coming through the doors I saw a single gunman, weapon pointed at the elderly clerk crouching down behind the registrar. Without slowing down I passed the man up and headed for the lawn and garden section, reaching for a water hose. Rounding back on the man, I wrapped him from head to toe in the garden hose, took the gun apart and set it on the counter. Next stop was on my way to the Docks.

The dispatch had come in as a report of a drunk driver in a Red Dodge Viper, traveling down Essen Parkway. Apparently the driver was swerving in and out of traffic. Essen Parkway was about halfway between Burgundy and the waterfront. How to handle a drunk driver though? If I pull him from the car, I still have to stop the car… and I can't drive. Running up the Essen on ramp I wove through the slowly crawling cars, eyes scanning the roadway. There, less than half a mile ahead, the Red Viper. I came up to it and opened the door, giving the driver a quick once over. Sure enough, he looked drunk. Well I guess he looked drunk, his eyes were kind of half closed, his tie loosened at his neck, and he looked like he may have spilled something on his shirt. I reached passed him and turned the car off, then took the keys. Closing the door I went behind the car and opened the trunk. Sure enough, he had a lug wrench. A quick lap around the car and I had removed all four tires, stacking them neatly on the shoulder of the road. Fortunately traffic was fairly light, and what traffic had been on the road had given this guy a wide berth. Wiping brake dust off of my gloves, I took off for the waterfront.

While this call had been the most urgent, I needed to give it some time to get closer. Lawrence County Fire and Rescue had called in a near drowning, some 4 year old fell out of a boat and into the bay. At this moment they had the kid in a rescue boat heading to shore, where an ambulance and police escort was to take the kid to Brockton Bay General.

Even though the docks were not a part of town I spent very much time in, I knew where dock 21 was. When I was younger, I would sometimes go to work with Dad during the summer vacation. I still remembered how the docks were numbered and how to get there. As I headed towards the docks, a thought occurred to me. Was I fast enough? The water in sight I decided to speed up instead of slowing down. Golden sparks of electricity began to crackle along my arms, down my legs. I came to the water's edge and just kept going, my feet not in contact with the water for longer than a fraction of a fraction of a second. For just a moment I may have lost a little bit of speed, but I just ran harder. Water kicked up in a spray behind me as I rocketed over its surface, heading for the boat with the police lights flashing on its top.

Getting to the boat I could see the kid, a little girl, wrapped in a blanket. She had an oxygen mask on, connected to a small green tank. Her skin was grey. I lept into the boat and grabbed the marker from my belt. On the deck I wrote out where I was taking her. Then I took the girl gently into my arms and ran back out over the water. Water to shore to Brockton Bay General, pushing myself harder than I did when I put out the fire. Entering the hospital I could see that the ER already had a warming tank set up. I laid the girl down on a bed next to it, dragged a Nurse next to her bed, put the oxygen tank in the nurse's hands, then headed back to the diner.

I drop back into my seat, Assault and Vista's both jumping a little as I down the rest of my tea in one long drink.

"Feel free to check those dispatch times out with the BBPD. Still my point is the same, while I am open to working together, to learning everything I can from the heroes, Adult and Ward in this city, it just makes too much sense for me to try to help out as many people as I can on my own."

I stood up and placed some money on the table.

"Thanks for the tea and for your help with the PRT. Maybe in the future they could spend a little more time talking to the first responders on scene before barging in like that."

I reached out and shook Assault's hand, trying not to smile at the slightly stunned look on his face. I did the same with Vista.

"If you ever want to talk, I am on PHO as "FastestGirlAlive." I normally check it from South America though, so don't be surprised if it takes me a few days to get back to you."

I give them both another smile and then I'm gone.


	14. Conduction 4

Ride the Lightning

Conduction 2.4

"Taylor, can you come into the living room please?"

"Sure thing Dad!"

Walking down the stairs I took a moment to look at my my left arm. The skin was still red and a little inflamed from the shoulder almost to my wrist. I knew yesterday that I had gotten burned in the fire, what I hadn't know was exactly how bad it was. While the sleeve of my costume was a little charred, it hadn't really melted or even burned that much. My arm had been a different story. Pulling off the jacket last night had been agony. Seeing the angry looking blisters running up and down my arm, some as large as the palm of my hand… that had been scary. I had tossed and turned uncomfortably in bed for hours last night, worried about how I was going to explain the burns, feeling the building pain of it all, and knowing that this morning would mean getting Dad to take me to the hospital. Instead I woke up to find all of the blisters gone. The arm was still red, but even that was fading.

Accelerated healing was cool.

Pulling my sleeve back down enough to cover my arm, I entered the living room to find Dad standing next to the couch.

"Morning Dad, what's up?"

"Have a seat Taylor. There are some things I want to talk to you about."

Well that was… ominous. I crossed over to the couch and sat down, doing my best to look innocent.

Dad walked over to the tv and turned it on. He switched it over to the VCR channel and hit play, walking over to sit next to me on the couch.

The tape started playing mid-commercial. 30 seconds later the commercial ended.

"Repeating our top story, a street confrontation between members of the Merchants and Empire 88 was disrupted through the intervention of a new Brockton Bay hero called The Flash. The altercation took place in the Old Bleaker neighborhood of the Eastern Docks. During the course of the battle Firefighters were dispatched to a 2 alarm fire which broke out at the scene. According to police reports The Flash evacuated all of the residents in the buildings at the time, apprehended each of the non-powered gang members, Stormtiger of the Empire 88, and extinguished the fire, all prior to the arrival of the PRT. PRT spokesperson Kristina Barrett declined to take questions, but did issue a short statement."

"The PRT would like to extend our thanks to The Flash for her assistance in dealing with this incident. Fortunately Protectorate heroes were on scene to secure Stormtiger and ensure the safety of the other First Responders."

Dad hit the pause button. Standing up, he walked into the kitchen. A moment later he was back, placing a chair in front of the couch."

"Taylor, I know."

Dad sat down in the chair, leaned forward and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Let's talk about it."

Since I've had my powers I have made it a point to pick up little bits of speed related trivia. In my head, I call them Flash Facts.

Yes, I'm a dork.

A lot of things can happen in a single second. In one second an average of 11 trees are cut down in the Amazon rainforest.

Flash Fact.

In a single second, the Earth travels 19 miles around the sun.

Flash Fact.

"Taylor, I know. Let's talk about it."

In the single second after my dad finished that sentence, time screeched to a halt. Every variation of what, how, and why went through my mind. In the end, I had no answers. I'm the Fastest Girl Alive… and my dad managed to take me completely by surprise.

Flash Fact.

Denial.

"What do you mean you know? Know what?"

"Come on Taylor. I'm putting my cards on the table. I know you have powers, I know you're The Flash. I've known for awhile now, and I want you to talk to me about it."

The way he was talking to me, there was utter conviction behind his words. I knew my dad. This wasn't a guess, he really did know. Again my thoughts started racing. Had he been somehow spying on me? Did someone else find out and let him know? Were we being blackmailed?

I took a deep breath, held it in before slowly letting it out. A little more centered I raised my eyes to meet his. They looked…. tired. Dad had the same slightly crumpled, lost look he has had since Mom died but now, looking hard at him, I could see a subtle difference. Like he had traded one weight for another.

"Ok Dad, you're right. I am The Flash. Sorry I didn't tell you. I guess…. I guess I didn't want you to worry about me."

Dad reached out with both of his hands, taking mine into his.

"Taylor, I'm always going to worry about you. The first night we brought you home from the hospital and put you to sleep in your crib, I worried. Your first day of school, I worried. Big events and small, I'm going to worry about you. That's kind of my job."

Squeezing my hands a little tighter, he slid forward in his chair, leaning his head towards mine.

"But what I want you to know, to remember above everything else, is this. I am here for you, even if it doesn't look like it, even if it seems like I'm distracted, I'm here. Just ask, ok?"

It took me a moment to realize that I had tears in my eyes.

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me everything."

In the it took several hours to get through it.

It wasn't pretty. Dad asked me to tell him everything, and he asked it in a way that mattered, so I did. Over a year's worth of bullying. Notebooks filled with my records of each insult, every assault. My feelings of isolation. All of the reasons I gave myself for not confiding in Dad.

I think those hurt him the most.

Then towards the end, I told him about my discoveries in the hospital. My reading, my running, my healing. I was pulling my sleeve back down over my nearly completely healed arm when an unwelcomed sound intruded.

GRRRRrrrrrrrrGGGGGGLLllelleeee

I sheepishly put my hand over my stomach.

"Sorry about that, I guess I'm pretty hungry. Do you wan…"

I was cut off by an even louder rumble coming from Dad's midsection. We locked eyes for just a moment…. then erupted in shared laughter.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Dad stood up from his chair and stretched, reaching his arms towards the ceiling.

"Ok, enough soul baring for the morning. How about we get something to eat?"

"Sounds good to me. Want to go out? I know where we can get some great sushi. My treat."

"Great sushi huh? Where are we going?"

I shot upstairs, grabbing my backpack and some money from my bedroom and throwing my costume on. I stopped next to Dad long enough to smile up at him wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Seattle."

Across town, and slightly earlier in the morning, another conversation was about to place. Within the PRT headquarters, the various members of the Wards ENE were gathered around a table. As the clock on the wall ticked to 0600, the door to the room opened, admitting Armsmaster.

The blue armored hero gave each of the Wards a nod as he rounded the table, coming to a podium at the front of the room. Addressing himself towards Aegis, Armsmaster pressed a button, lowering the lights and turning on a screen embedded in the wall behind him.

"Aegis, thank you for getting your team here. I would like to apologize to all of you about the time, but I wanted to get this briefing out of the way now before you head to school."

"Not a problem Sir, most of us," Aegis paused to elbow the snoring form of Clockblocker, his head on the table to the right, "would have been up anyway. What's this about?"

Armsmaster activated a touch sensor in his glove, bringing an image onto the screen behind him.

"What you see here is the first clear image of the independant hero going by the name The Flash. This image was taken from the visor camera installed in Assaults helmet. Please take a few moments to study this image and make yourselves familiar with her appearance."

Around the table each of the Wards, despite individual variations in body language, showed signs that they were now paying attention. The image itself was of the hero standing in front of a still smoking tenement building. One leg was covered in containment foam, the arms folded under her chest, a golden lightning bolt on red emblem just visible.

"We have assigned The Flash the following ratings. Mover-7, with subclassifications as Breaker 1, Thinker 1, Striker 1, and Shaker 5."

Browbeat shifted a bit in his chair, letting out a long whistle.

"That's a spread. I thought I heard a cop say she was a teleporter, nothing about any shaker abilities."

"It does indeed represent a range, but it is important to remember the purpose of these ratings is not about evaluating how 'powerful' any given Parahuman may be, but in describing the type of response warranted. As far as teleporting goes, here we have her in her own words."

With another press of his control, the monitor went into a split screen mode. The original image of The Flash was on the left. On the right was a still frame of The Flash seated in a diner. A flick of the control and the image began to speak.

"Actually, I'm not a teleporter. I'm just really, really fast."

Another flick and the image paused.

"In assessing The Flash, what we have been able to determine is that her powers are based primarily around speed. Based on incidental surveillance and with the addition of her actions last night, both observed and implied, we have determined that, at a minimum, she is capable of traveling over 700 miles per hour."

Aegis shot Clockblocker a look, but didn't say anything.

"In addition to pure speed, The Flash is able to manipulate organic and inorganic matter at speed with no observable negative consequences."

Vista turned her eyes towards Clockblocker, but didn't say anything.

"Is that why she gets a shaker rating?"

"That's part of the reason Gallant. The other part? Last night she was observed putting out a fire which had engulfed parts of three buildings by running in a circle around it, creating a vacuum until the flames died out."

Kid Win subtly turned his eyes towards Clockblocker.

"Bullshit."

Armsmaster chose to ignore the outburst, though he was a little concerned when he noted Aegis and Browbeat apparently slipping money under the table into Kid Win's hand.

"I'm not going to go into the full details of The Flash's activities last night, I'm sure you will hear about them in the news. Vista here was partnered with Assault last night and had personal contact with her for almost an hour, please feel free to ask her to share her impressions. Ultimately the reason for this early morning briefing is this: The Flash has expressed the firm desire to remain an independent hero. We all know the statistics on such a path. That said, given her observed and implied abilities, it has been determined there is no way to hard sell her on the idea of joining the Wards. So our directive from on high is as follows. If you encounter the Flash in the course of your patrols, offer to work with her, be models of the right way to do things, and always report back on your interactions. That concludes this mornings briefing, make sure you all get to class."

Armsmaster activated his control again, bringing the light level in the room back up and turning off the monitor. As the various Wards pushed away from the table and began filing out of the room, Shadow Stalker remained seated in her chair, staring at the now blank screen.

The screen which had, just a moment ago, shown a girl who appeared abnormally tall for her age, with thick brown hair, pale skin, and a mouth too wide for her face. The expression on that mouth something you might see on a person who was worried about being attacked, but also worried about looking afraid. The voice had sealed the deal. The Flash wasn't a hero. She was a piece of shit weakling who lucked into powers which, in what might be the funniest joke Sophia had ever seen, let her do what she did best: run away.

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 **Topic: Verification**

 **In: Boards ► Verification**

 **FastestGirlAlive** (Original Poster)

Posted on March 29th, 2011:

So I tried taking a picture of me using my powers, but they don't translate well to photography (i'm really, really, ridiculously fast). Instead I decided to just take a bunch of pictures while out on a run. I made sure I had a local newspaper in hand showing the date. Will that plus the location information embedded in the pic's count as verification?

 **(Showing page 1 of 1)**

► **Tin_Mother** (Moderator)

Replied on March 29th, 2011

Yes, this will suffice.

Enjoy your tag, a few words of advice.

Remember the tos still apply to you. While we do everything we can to preserve members anonymity, we are limited by what you post.

Welcome to the board!

-tin_mother

************Author's Note**************

Ok, sorry for the lateness, the shortness, and the crappiness of this. For those who didn't know, I recently changed jobs. RIGHT AFTER I started my new job (which involves a pretty grueling and rigorous FTO process) things kind of went to hell where I live. We went on emergency staffing, and I worked 12-14 hours a day every day for the last little bit. I was already running behind on getting the next chapter out and, when all of this happened, I just lost the thread. I've now had my first few days off in a while and sat down to write determined to get it out and…. Nothing. I hated everything. My original intention was to keep slamming my head against the keyboard until story happened, but I decided that would just be a form of procrastination. So here is what we have.

Conduction, the second arc: done. Finished early. I didn't really have too many beats for it anyway, and the ones I have yet to get to will be worked into the next bit. I have tomorrow off, and will be spending it writing. I am off this weekend (and will be switching from days to nights as happens every month), so I will have plenty of time to write.

So Ride the Lightning lives, and the next arc will start SOON!

As a mea culpa, for the next 2 hours I will answer *most* questions and will take omake (lagniappe) requests as part of my "get the juices flowing again" initiative.


	15. Ohm 1

Ride the Lightning

Ohm 3.1

I was sitting in my place in the police station. For tonight's Explorers Meeting, SGT Govarts had decided to give a class about community policing.

"Community policing is not just a method of resource allocation; it is a philosophy describing how law enforcement should interact with the community it serves. In some ways what we are talking about is a return to the policing methods of 50 years ago. The current method of deployment is to put officers in patrol cars and having them drive through areas with a high level of criminal activity. Under the community police model, we instead assign officers to neighborhoods and encourage them to "walk the beat."

A few chairs down from me, Marie Day raised her hand. After being acknowledged by SGT Govarts, the quiet girl stood up.

"I can see where that might have been a good idea way back when, but come on Sergeant, most cities, and the Bay in particular, are way too dangerous to have police just walking through most of the neighborhoods."

""That is certainly an argument against the community police model. Still, there are benefits that can balance the increased risk. An Officer who gets to know his beat also gets to know the people who live and work there, civilian and criminal. In turn, the people who live and work there get to know him. When something goes down, people are more likely to let the Officer know about it. When an investigation presents itself, the Officer has real working knowledge of the area, leads and contacts which can accelerate the work of solving the crime. Here is a bit of local trivia that is sometimes lost to history and PRT propaganda. Back when Marquis was a major figure in the city, Christopher Riggs, his attorney, used to have coffee once a week at the Eagle Down Diner, sitting at the counter next to then Lieutenant Sam Harper. Now Mr. Riggs was scrupulous about protecting his client privilege, but he was also careful to pass along information that helped out the police on several occasions. This informal coffee klatch helped the BBPD stop a human trafficking ring, rescue the kidnapped daughter of a city councilman, and got us early warning when the Teeth were heading towards the city. All in all lives were saved and criminals apprehended where they otherwise wouldn't have been, because we had an officer who made himself available."

This time it was my hand that went into the air. When SGT Govarts inclined his head towards me, I got out of my chair and stood at a modified position of attention, still a little uncomfortable in my newly issued uniform.

"Isn't that a little unethical though? I mean, in this case I'm sure a lawyer made sure that he didn't do anything incriminating, but if I understand you correctly, the community police model means that officers are not just building relationships with the citizens in their areas, but also with gang bangers and other known criminals instead of just, you know, arresting them."

Finishing my thought rather lamely, I took my seat again, ears burning slightly.

"Not a bad point. A detail that is sometimes lost on the public is that law enforcement personnel are not robots. While we are sworn to uphold the law, as trained professionals we are also expected to exercise critical thinking, good judgment, and personal discretion in the execution of our duties. Does this create a grey area? Sure it does. There is a fine line between discretion and negligence. This, as much as the danger that Day referenced, is a reason why community policing fell by the wayside. Professionals exercising critical thinking opens a department up to lawsuits more than technicians blindly following standard operating procedures. And, as in so many things, we have to take into account the reality of living in a world of Capes."

SGT Govarts looked at his watch, then stepped around his podium.

"Which is a point we will pick up on next time. Remember we are skipping a week, but our next meeting will be at the PRT Headquarters. Make sure you all have your permission forms turned in to this station at least 5 days beforehand so that we can get our guest access set up."

Like my fellow Explorers, I began to police up the area around my my desk. As I placed my notebook into my messenger bag, Christner came over to me, reaching down to pick my jacket up from the floor.

"How did you like the lecture Hebert?"

Taking the jacket from him, I straightened up and answered.

"To be honest, I found it pretty thought provoking."

"I know what you mean. This is probably the third time I've heard it. I've been coming to these meetings since I was 14; still SGT Govarts manages to keep it interesting."

Sliding my arms into the jacket, I cinched the messenger bag over my shoulder.

"It was that. I got the impression though that community policing isn't something that happens that much anymore; at least as far as the police are concerned." I paused, a thought crossing my mind. "Do you think Heroes ever try the same approach?"

A funny look briefly flittered across Christner's face. Most people wouldn't have noticed it, but even when I was standing still I had more time than most to pay attention to details. Gone as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by the easy half-smile that was so often there.

"Actually I'm pretty sure they do. I mean, the whole point of heroes going on patrol is so that the community can see that they are out and about, acting as a deterrent to crime and showing their availability to the citizenry."

I couldn't help but frown a little at that explanation. It felt…. Canned. It also didn't really seem like an effective approach. Still, the concept as described by SGT Govarts had merit. Giving Christner a smile of my own, I headed towards the door.

"See you next meeting."

Monday morning found me sitting at a cybercafe in San Francisco, sipping a chai tea and playing with my new toy. After this week's delivery run for Parian, I used an earned commision to purchase a laptop. Spec wise it is pretty middle of the road, but it gets the job done. In this case, the job in question is research. After my Explorers meeting I decided to spend some time actually thinking about how I could adapt the community policing concept to the problem of supervillain led gangs. Of course this means I need to learn more about the gangs in question; the common knowledge of a Brockton Bay high schooler probably isn't accurate enough to design an interventionist policy around.

I am still having problems with involved internet surfing. Even with the outstanding connection speed I was getting from the cafe's wifi, having to sit through each page's loading time was boring. In order to distract myself and make the time go a little more quickly I had a window open streaming the San Francisco police radio band. While I don't know the city well enough to zip around at my best speed, I do well enough that I've been able to stop a few crimes in progress in the time I've been here.

Brockton Bay has three gangs of note. Empire 88, a white extremist group with a robust Cape roster. The Merchants, drug dealers known for forcibly addicting people in order to expand their customer base. Azn Bad Boys, a pan-Asian gang engaged in a variety of vice pedaling, under the direction of the single most potent Parahuman in the city, Lung. At first glance, the ABB stood as a mirror to the E88. The more I read about them though, the more I came to the idea that this was a faulty perception. When you looked at the crimes attributed to the ABB, the only ones linked to Lung himself were violent in nature. While all of the Empire's crimes could be linked in someway to supporting their overall mission, as twisted as that mission might be, the ABB was a disparate group of gangs that rallied together under the force of Lung's presence. Sure, he had systematically beat the shit out of anyone who had gone up against him, but he wasn't infallible or undefeatable. He had lost to every hero group in the city at one time or another, and the continued existence of the other gangs meant he couldn't be trying that hard.

No, something about Lung and the ABB didn't add up.

Standing up I closed my laptop and put it into my messenger bag. It was time to head back to Brockton Bay. I needed to talk to Lung.

Gathering up the trash from my table I headed towards the trashcan. A woman in a business suit heading in the same direction bumped into me.

"So sorry about that."

"Not a problem, I should probably watch where I'm going."

"Want me to toss that in the trash for you?"

"Sure, thanks."

I handed the woman my half drunk chai, gave her a smile, and headed down the street.

Behind me the woman dropped her trash into the can. Holding my discarded cup in one hand, she placed a fedora on her head with the other and began walking in the opposite direction.

It's early evening and I am in costume doing something that I have never really done as the Flash…. I'm going for a walk. In this case my walk is taking me right into the heart of ABB territory. At this time of day most of the commute from work to home has already happened. As I walk down the sidewalk I keep a smile on my face and my head on a swivel, taking in the sights around me. When I first stepped onto the street I passed the burnt out husk of a car, the frame partially melted into the street. The buildings around me are all tagged in some way, paint artfully communicating in english, mandarin, japanese, korean, and a host of other languages who this street belongs to. A door opens as I pass in front of a building, a scantily clad girl who looks no older than I do steps out, catches sight of me, and promptly steps back inside.

The stoop down the street? Occupied by 5 tough looking gang bangers, ranging in apparent age from mid-teens to late twenties. Ripped jeans and light jackets seem to be the order of the day, with red and green rags tied around arms, wrapped around foreheads, and affixed to belts. Even at this distance they are all eyeing me. I can see one of them retrieve something blocky from a pocket, a cell phone I think.

This seems like a good time to say hi.

I dash down the street, coming to a standstill right in front of the stoop. While I'm not moving forward, I am still moving fast. I can watch as, with glacial slowness, they notice that I'm no longer standing where I was. A quick look around assures me that no one is behind me. Returning to normal speed I clear my throat and give them all a moment to jump.

With a cheerful wave and a smile I begin.

"Excuse me, but I would like to talk to Lung, could you please tell me where he is?"

"The fuck do you mean bitch? We're not going to tell you where Lung is!"

Ah, a leader has stepped forward. I give the young man a once over. About 5'7", spiky hair dyed red, tattoos covering his arms. A spiked bracelet is on his left wrist, a chain connects his pants to a wallet.

"Ga Tae Soo, is that anyway to respond to a politely asked question?"

The use of his name obviously throws the leader off.

"How the fuck do you know who I am Cape whore?"

Another smile from me.

"I know many things about many people Ga Tae Soo. For instance, I know that you live at 5978 Tankersly Boulevard, in apartment 97C. I know that you are not allowed to drive unless you wear corrective lenses. I also know," and here I pull a small card out of my pocket and toss it to the man, "that your drivers license is expired."

Ga Tae Soo reaches to catch the card I've tossed to him. Despite themselves, each of the crew around him turns their eyes to track the card. I use the momentary distraction to zip down the block and out of sight.

Despite what this may look like, I'm not being naive. I repeat my question to five more crews of ABB in widely different parts off their territory over the next hour. There are some variations. I interrupt a crew in the process of tagging a building. I swapped their spraypaint cans for dollar store shaving cream, then stand back and watch the confusion before asking my question. In one case I stopped an attempted break in on a car by snatching a crowbar out of the girl's hand as she swung it at the window. I dropped her off at an Urgent Care clinic so she could get her hand looked at after she slammed it into the window instead of the bar. I asked her my question while helping her fill out the paperwork.

When I felt the territory had been sufficiently covered, I decided my next course of action should be to make myself available. To that end I made a quick lap back towards a vacant lot I had noted was filled with various bits of detritus. Finding a comfortable looking recliner laying on it's side, I carried it back towards Hobb's Park in the center of the ABB territory and did the hardest thing for me to do in this situation.

I sat down and waited.

I had been sitting in the chair for a little over an hour. Just sitting. Turning my police scanner off had been a hard thing to do, but on the off chance this worked, I wanted to be here.

An ounce of prevention and all.

The sun had well and truly set and all around me street lights switched on. My shadow was thrown forward as the light behind me came on.

Funny, why did my shadow look like it belonged to a man shaped mountain?

Oh.

I slowly stood up and turned around. Raising my head slightly, I locked eyes with the man who was standing a few feet behind my chair. Arms crossed in front of his massive chest, nearly 7 feet tall, metal mask covering his lower face.

Lung.

"I understand you wished to speak with me."

Lung walked around the chair, approaching until he was looming directly in front of me, staring down. Keeping my eyes locked onto his, I simply nodded.

With a satisfied grunt, Lung took a single step backwards and sank into the cair. Crossing his right ankle over his left knee, the leader of the ABB steepled his fingers under his chin and inclined his head.

"Then talk."

************Authors Note**************

Ok, confession time. I didn't want to end this chapter here. But I LOVED this ending. When I typed the next line my computer reached the singularity, assimilated nearby technology, and slapped me until I agreed to end it here. I work the next three days (fri-sat-sun), so I expect to have the next chapter out by next weekend (as opposed to this weekend). I am on my night rotation, so I will tend to be typing and responding to things during the wee hours.


	16. Ohm 2

Ride the Lightning

Ohm 3.2

With a satisfied grunt, Lung took a single step backwards and sank into the chair. Crossing his right ankle over his left knee, the leader of the ABB steepled his fingers under his chin and inclined his head.

"Then talk."

Be confident, be confident, be confident.

"The Azn Bad Boys control territory covering over 40% of Brockton Bay. Your gang has been linked to a variety of crimes, including robbery, extortion, drug peddling, prostitution, illegal gambling, grand theft auto, and car jacking among others. You yourself are responsible for hundreds of thousands of dollars in property damage."

I began to pace a little bit, letting my words carry me back and forth in front of the gang leader.

"Over the last five years you have systemically absorbed or otherwise co-opted at least five other gangs, press ganging their members into the ABB and, in the case of Oni Lee, suborning their enforcers to your service."

Lung acknowledged my run down with a small nod.

"I would like to know why?"

The air hung heavy between the two of us, the area quiet except for the occasional sound of a car passing in the distance. Lung regarded me silently for several minutes. Finally he straightened in his chair before addressing me.

"Who are you, little hero, that I should explain myself to you?"

Talking to me is good. It beats trying to set me on fire.

"Right now I am curious. I would like to improve things in this city for all of the people living here. In order to do this I want to accomplish more than locking up criminals and fighting other Capes. Before I can make change though, I need to understand _why_ the city is the way it is. The Merchants are straightforward. Money and vice. Empire 88, for all of their misguided principles, are easy to understand in the abstract."

I stopped pacing and walked back towards Lung, coming to a stop directly in front of the man.

"You are something that doesn't make sense to me. In the interest of reaching my goals while at the same time not insulting you, I decided to go directly to the source."

Again he looked at me without making a sound. Another minute passed.

"BAWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Lung threw his head back and broke out in deep throated laughter, his deep voice echoing off of the buildings across the street. Standing from the chair, Lung reached a hand out and I allowed him to place it on my shoulder. I was tensed, ready to dash away from him the millisecond I felt him begin to squeeze.

"Very well little hero. Walk with me and I will answer your questions. When we reach the place where I wish to eat my evening meals, our conversation will be over. At that time we will have an understanding, you will flee my territory, or we shall fight."

He locked his eyes onto mine, black pupils, surrounded by brown, ringed in red.

"Acceptable?"

I swallowed.

"Acceptable."

If I thought my original walk through the ABB territory in costume had felt weird, that was nothing compared to repeating said walk in the shadow of Lung. Before people had dashed away from me or threw shade my way, obviously not knowing any better.

Now?

The people who lived and worked in this territory showed Lung both difference and fear. Heads would incline as we passed, eyes tracking our movements from one end of a street to the other until we passed out of sight.

"Ask your first question little hero."

Keeping my voice measured, I decided to jump in with both feet.

"Why do you have a gang?"

"Why does the Earth move in its orbit around the Sun? The weak are attracted to the strong. I am the strongest there is in Brockton Bay."

Well that was….. an answer.

"What about the Empire or the Merchants?"

Lung scoffs at the mention of the other gangs. Still, he answers.

"The Merchants are slaves to their own desires. The only momentum that trash has is towards securing their next fix. Being the weakest of the weak, they must delude themselves into thinking they are strong. As for the so called Empire, their misconceived notions of purity prevent them from seeing who the strongest actually is. I could kill each of them, Oni Lee could kill each of them, they will never acknowledge the truth."

We turn a corner, heading into the deep portion of his territory. Whereas the outskirts had been lightly trafficked, the streets here were bustling. Neon lights advertised various drinking and dancing establishments.

"So let me get this straight. You have a gang…. because the people in your gang _want_ you to have a gang? If that's true, why did you spend years absorbing or destroying the other asian gangs?"

For the first time there is a hint of a growl in the man's voice.

"When I arrived in this city I had nothing. The various factions were scattered and weak. I do not like weakness. Prejudice and false divisions meant that groups such as the Empire could roam unchecked. I took over my first gang here because I lived in the middle of it's territory. The next gang because its leader insulted me. The next because it had a versatile enforcer I wished to pit myself against. Oni Lee has worked for me ever since."

Lung stopped walking and made a half turn, fixing me with his gaze.

"Understand little hero, I do not actually run the Azn Bad Boys. I am Lung, and I am the strongest. I respond to challenges and insults, because I am bored and prideful. The rest? The list of crimes which you laid out back in the park? Simply the motion of the planets as they move in orbit around me. Like the sun I normally move about my business paying the passing of lesser bodies no mind."

"Still, while the sun could care less about what Mars does in it's orbit, it is only in that orbit because the sun is there. You may not care about the drugs, assaults, the human trafficking… but you are still ultimately responsible for everything that happens in your orbit."

A chill runs down my spine while I wait for his response.

"I suppose so."

"Another question. Before I ask it, please don't misconstrue my intent here. If you are the strongest, then why is there still an Empire?"

I get a grunt from him this time.

"Judging from your use of the language, am I correct in thinking that you enjoy reading?"

A surprising segue. I nod in response.

"Are there no books which you enjoy reading, that you keep put away so that you might take them down again at some point in the future and read them again?"

Another nod from me.

"It is just so with the Empire."

"So… you haven't wiped out the Empire because…. you are saving them for a rainy day?"

"HA! Yes, a rainey day."

At the end of the block we were on, just past a building featuring a woman made of neon lights with her top flashing on and off I see it, the noodle shop where Lung intends to finish our conversation.

"What is it you WANT Lung? I understand that you are prideful, and bored; that you are arguably the strongest Cape in the Bay. You have told me in so many words that you don't really give a fuck about your gang and what its members do, so I have to ask, what is it you actually want?"

The fuck just kind of slipped out of my mouth. I may have been spending too much time around Cops and Firefighters. For a moment I am worried Lung will take insult with the swear. Instead he continues as if I hadn't used it at all.

"What do I want? I want to the Asian peoples of this city to not be marginalized, I want to fight challenging foes, and I want some dinner."

We had arrived at the noodle shop. An obvious member of Lung's gang, the gang he apparently didn't really care about, made ready to open the door. Lung ignored the man, instead turning his back to the shop so that he was facing me directly.

"So little hero, I have answered your questions. You will now answer mine, yes?"

I swallow down a shudder, square my shoulders, and give my response.

"I can do that."

"In your desire to 'better Brockton Bay,' what do you wish to do about the Merchants?"

Not the question I was expecting.

"Ideally I would like to address the reasons people turn to drugs for an escape. Instead of just busting junkies, I want them to get treatment and support so that they don't feel like they need to go to Skidmark for a fix."

"And what will you do about the so called Empire? Their beliefs run deeply; I do not think friendly chats and comfortable chairs will warrant the same reception with such a group."

"You… are not wrong, the Empire is a more complicated problem to address than the Merchants. At heart I think most of them are probably cowards, propped up by Capes who allow them to lash out, just like bullies everywhere. If you take the Capes out of the equation you will not solve the problem, but it will quiet down, giving society some room to work in."

Lung looked thoughtfully at me.

"I have a final question for you, little hero. What is your plan for me? Am I a disease to be cured like the Merchants, an obstacle to be overcome like Kaiser and his ilk, or a systemic inconvenience to be outgrown as you believe his followers to be?"

There was no mirth in his voice and, as relaxed as Lung appeared as he stood there before me, I could almost taste the implication of violence which now hung in the air. If I am being honest, it was there the entire time, simply masked by conversation.

Well, honesty is the best policy, right?

"What is my plan for you? You are Lung. I don't plan on fighting you unless I am forced to. I would instead plead to both your pride and your boredom. You ARE the strongest here, you don't need to be surrounded by the ABB for people to know that. They are not you, they are just the the trash that orbits you. I would like to combat that trash, as well as the rest of the trash in the city, until there are only people. In order to do this, I would ask you to simply…. be bored. When I take that guy to the police station," here I pointed at a young man who was obviously selling drugs on the street corner behind me, "I don't want you to think I am insulting you. I am not. You don't care about his selling drugs and I do. Be bored."

Turning back to Lung I continued, picking up speed as it were.

"As to your pride, I have looked into the fights you have been in. Someone paints something disparaging about you over an ABB tag; I get it, insults hurt. But you KNOW the only reason they paint the words instead of speaking them to you is that THEY KNOW you are stronger than them. A group of Capes rob a casino in your territory and you put two of them in the hospital, one of which may never wake up again. Were they calling YOU out? Or were they out for a quick score from a building that, as far as I can tell, you have never actually been to? So on the subject of your pride, I would simply ask that you hold yourself out for opponents who actually matter. I understand that you are not the model of a law abiding citizen, I doubt you ever could be, and I am not here to offer you some form of immunity. Even if you would accept such an offer, no one has authorized me to make one. But I have no reason to target you, Lung, in a fight I might only win, "Lung chuckles deeply here," with considerable collateral damage. If and when the order comes from on high to take you in, that is the day I will come for you. Until then…"

My mind goes a little blank. I don't really have a good ending for this speech. Still, Lung isn't setting me on fire or throwing a car at me, maybe he won't take the trailing sentence as an implied threat…. or overt threat.

"You have given me something to think about little hero."

Lung turned towards the door of the noodle shop. The ABB member next to the door pulled it open.

"This is my favorite noodle shop. The name is Konjiki Hototogisu. I eat here each Tuesday night. If you wish, you may join me here and we may continue our conversation. For now little hero, I intend to eat and think. You may show yourself out of my territory."

With that pronouncement Lung turned his back on me and entered the noodle shop. I saw him incline his head towards a tiny, ancient looking woman behind the counter before the door closed.

Well that was interesting. With Lung…. not handled, talked to, I would need to wait and see with the ABB. For now, I intend to focus my community policing approach on the Merchants and their territory. It won't hurt that this will mean I am cleaning up the area directly adjacent to the docks, helping to give Dad a slightly safer work environment.

I turn to leave, waving at the ABB doorman before I shoot away. I head six blocks down, three blocks over, and spiral my way back, getting halfway there before I catch up to the drug dealer. A quick search shows he still has the merchandise on him, as well as about $4000 is cash. I drop him off at the nearest precinct house before heading home.

****authors note*****

Short chapter, mostly because this was originally going to be part of 3.1 if I had been able to resist the cliffhanger. Since I got this up tonight, I still plan on the next chapter coming out in the next 7-9 days.


	17. Ohm 3

Ride the Lightning

Ohm 3.3

In the days following my sit down with Lung things had been slow. Stop a mugging here, find a cat there, take an online test on Tuesday, make a delivery to Mexico City on Wednesday. I knew that it was wrong to think of these things as busy work. The impact of crime in Brockton Bay was pervasive, insidious, and ever present. Still, given the sheer amount of terror that my sit down had caused me, I guess I just expected more.

I couldn't help but sigh.

The relative slowdown was good for a few things. The extra time gave me a chance to give some more thought to my strategy. As far as I could tell, breaking the local gangs was going to be a tough nut to crack. It had to be, were it a simple matter the Police, PRT, and the Heroes would have managed it before now. The ultimate problem, as near as I could tell, was one of time. The various factions in the city balance each other out. The balance isn't perfect, every few weeks one group or another makes a play for some new bit of territory, but other than that everything stayed in check. Should the good guys mobilize in force to remove the Merchants, Empire, or ABB, the remaining groups would go to war over the spoils. What's worse, the stalemate was fragile enough that attention couldn't be devoted to the more minor groups without worrying about one of the big three going off the rails. This let Capes like Circus; groups like Coil's, to remain out in the streets, doing their part to drag the city down.

As important as a grand strategy might be, I couldn't let the lack of one prevent me from doing anything. A lack of action was itself an action.

In an effort to vary my approach I decided to do a modified patrol. Instead of hanging out listening to the police band, I elected to pop up all around the city. Walk through a park, then respond to an armed robbery. Help an old lady cross the street, chase down a mugger. Respond to a report of a cape harassing the elderly as they attempted to cross streets, realize that the BBPD dispatchers had caught on to the fact that I was listening in. Drop off a dozen donuts to the dispatch center with a card thanking them for the work they do, spend the rest of the day getting compliments in my ear.

Around 5:30 in the evening a call came in for shots fired. The location was a bit unusual, a park near Captain's Hill. I tossed the bag my croissant had come in into a nearby trashcan and took off. While my familiarity with the city has improved dramatically since I gained my powers, I hadn't had as much reason to visit this part of Brockton Bay. I made a point of reviewing a city map every few days in order to be passingly familiar with my way around. Still, there is a difference between being able to recall a top down view of the city and being able to navigate it in the first person.

Which is a roundabout way of saying that, as fast as I am, sometimes I'm still late.

I blurred through the light traffic, the park coming into view. The view in question was a study in contrasts. Hobbs Park presented a clean and well kept appearance, with newer equipment, walking trails, water fountains and actual children at play. Pulling away from the park was a nondescript white van, a rear window opened just enough for the barrel of a gun to point through, a slowly expanding explosion of flame exiting it. In the middle of the park there was a woman, hispanic and in her early 30's. She was falling backwards, a cellphone grasped in her left hand. The womans white shirt was a mass of red, expanding even now. Her right hand was flying apart as I watched, the bullet which had just torn through it tumbling along its course, equally heedless of the mist of blood in its wake...or the child in its path.

The child in its path.

In that moment the van was forgotten. I pushed; hard. My power, my speed, thrummed in my ears as lightning wreathed my body. I ran as fast as I had ever run before, the world a still life with a blue hue in front of me. Reaching the child, a little girl of three or four, blonde hair and blue eyes, I wrapped her in my arms and sprinted behind a concrete trash receptacle. Coming to a stop so I could talk to her I took in a breath even as her widening eyes took in the change in location and my sudden appearance.

"I need you to stay here sweetie, bad people are shooting."

The girl's lips started to part, but I was off before I could hope to hear her response. In the time that I had stopped to talk several more shots had emerged from the fleeing van. Heading back towards the hispanic woman I noted that the shots hadn't been aimed at her or, if they had been, the movement of the van had thrown the shooter wildly off target. Now the bullets were making their way, respectively, towards a group of kids who were obviously fleeing the gunfire, and a house that bordered the park on the other side. I headed towards the group of kids first. One of them had an aluminum baseball bat, taking it into my hands I rounded on the bullet and swung down, knocking it off course and into the ground away from the kids. Turning around, I then took off towards the house. Sweat was beading my brow as I raced the bullet. As fast I was moving, the bullet had a head start, didn't have to navigate over terrain or around people, and was difficult to see. In the end I spotted it about 200 feet from the house. I swung the bat as hard as I could, twisting to turn around and burn off speed before I collided with the house. Momentum hadn't really been much of a problem before.

How fast was I moving?

Dropping the bat, I raced back into the park. The woman who had been shot had finally stopped falling. Coming to a stop next to her I pulled off her jacket and made an impromptu pressure dressing for her hand. Her panicked eyes met mine, pained sobbing and ragged breaths met her attempts at speech.

"I know it hurts and you're scared, but I'm going to get you to the hospital. Is there someone here who can watch the kid who was with you?"

Another shuddering breath.

"Is Ashley ok? Was she shot? Where is she?"

"Yes, she is fine, no she wasn't shot, she is right over there. Is there anyone who can watch her?"

"Yes, Jennifer is here."

I stood up and looked around, taking in slowly gathering crowd. In addition to the group of kids, several adults were getting up from where they had hit the ground.

"I'm the Flash, I need to get this woman to the hospital. She said Jennifer could watch," I blurred over to where I had left, "Ashley. Is there a Jennifer here?"

An older woman with silver hair slowly raised her hand. I placed Ashley in her arms, then rounded on the gunshot victim.

"Don't worry, I'm going to have you to the hospital in just a moment. What's your name?"

"Yulady."

"Ok Yulady, you're being very brave, now just hold on for another second."

Getting a secure hold on the still bleeding woman I took off, the park left behind me.

A minute later I was in front of the emergency room for Brockton Bay General Hospital. I would have been inside already, but I had just run into what was, as far as I was concerned, the bane of all speedsters: automatic doors. After waiting a seeming eternity for the doors to register our presence and slide open I dashed inside, stopping next to the first empty trauma bay I could find. The full stop meant that whatever effect gave me my speed was no longer helping to support Yulady, and she slumped against me, a decidedly weaker moan sounding in her throat.

"I need a trauma team here now, multiple GSW victim, she's lost a lot of blood!"

The ER didn't so much grind to a halt as it had a momentary blip of calm, the staff taking notice of me and my passenger. After a moment a team of people in scrubs converged on my location, taking Yulady from my side and getting her onto a bed in the trauma bay. A woman with a face that screamed "IN CHARGE" began shouting out instructions as I looked on. A minute later the lady was in my face, all questions.

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Any loss of consciousness?"

"Can you estimate how much blood has been lost?"

"Any known medical history?"

I answered what I could, than was escorted to an office next to the nursing pod.

Before I knew it I was sitting in a chair, a cup of (objectively terrible) coffee was placed in my hands.

There was someone sitting in a chair next to me. How long had he been there? He was talking to me, but I felt like I wasn't getting all of the words. Something about "traumatic experience" and "hotline available" and "call someone" and "talk to an officer." My head shot up at that last one.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

The man placed a hand on my shoulder.

"It's alright. I said that, while I know this has been a rough experience, we will need you to talk to an officer. It's standard anytime we have a shooting, particularly if you witnessed the incident."

That sounded right, insofar as it matched what little we had covered about investigations in Explorers. Still…..

"Um, I'm not opposed to giving a statement, but what with," I gestured towards my costume and mask, "is this something that we are supposed to do right now?"

I hadn't noticed when I first got to the hospital, but when I focussed on this conversation I also took note of the fact that I was covered in blood.

"Normally we would ask for you to change into a spare set of scrubs so you could turn over your clothing to the police for evidence, but with you being a Ward and all, the PRT handles that."

Well, this was about to get awkward.

"I'm not actually a Ward."

The man's (I'm sure he told me his name) eyebrows went up.

"You're not?"

"No sir. Independant hero."

"That might change things, stay here while I make some calls."

And with that the man (I moved at speed, flipping around the lanyard he was wearing so I could see his name, Mr. Ralph Peterson, Brockton General Legal Department), left the room.

Left me alone.

I reached into one of my pouches to get my phone. Such a cheap thing. I could afford better. I had almost finished paying Parian for my costume, so had increased the salary I paid to myself. Weird thought, file for later.

Flipping the phone open I hit the speed dial for Fugly Bob's take out service.

"Hebert Residence, Danny speaking."

Mister Peterson came back into the room about 20 minutes after he had left. He was not alone. With him was a Cape. She was on the taller side of average, with olive skin and brownish hair. She wore camo pants tucked into combat boots, the top was a somewhat stylized form of body armor. A scarf covered the lower half of her face.

Miss Militia had come to talk to me.

The Protectorate Hero looked down at me, her eyes sharp and steady. A knife was holstered on her right hip, occasionally dissolving into a cloud of greenish-black energy before reforming into a slightly different knife. Seemingly satisfied with her appraisal, Miss Militia took a seat in the chair in front of me.

"That will be all Mr. Peterson."

With the not unfriendly dismissal, Peterson left the two of us to ourselves.

"I know that look."

Not the opening I expected.

"What look?"

"That one. The one you have had since you walked…..ran into the ER. It was on the video of you appearing in front of the doors, it was on the video of you in the actual ER, and it is on your face right now as I speak."

"Well that is profoundly vague. What look do I have?"

"You Flash, have the look of someone who thought they knew what violence was, and then were introduced to the real thing. I see it all the time. Rookie cops who respond to their first homicide, new Capes in the aftermath of a truly dangerous operation, Soldiers on the battlefield. Though the experiences differ, the look is the same."

Her words startled me, and she obviously knew it. Reaching out, Miss Militia offered me her hand. After hesitating a moment, I took it. Locking her eyes on mine, she inclined her head slightly.

"If you need to talk, we have people."

I was quiet for a few minutes. Surprisingly, she let me have that time. Finally I took my hand back and lifted my head.

"Is that why Mr. Peterson called you?"

A sigh.

"No… it's not. He also didn't call me. He contacted a PRT agent who happened to be stationed in this hospital, who took it upon himself to call me. You see, we have a slight issue."

I sat back and gestured towards myself.

"My costume?"

"Your costume. Normally the police do forensics for civilian crimes, while the PRT has technicians which handle cape related cases in house. For independants it can get a bit more complicated. While New Wave has an affiliation agreement which allows the PRT to look into cases in which they are involved, no such agreement exists where you are concerned."

I frowned. That didn't sound right.

"Why would the PRT even be involved here? No parahuman crime took place."

If anything, the look on Militia's face became pained.

Oh shit.

"I'm the Parahuman criminal?"

I stood up so fast that, from her perspective, I'm sure it looked like I just teleported.

I watched as the other Hero's eyes widened and her hand began to crawl towards the knife at her hip. Realizing what my movement must have looked like, I returned to my seat just as fast, my hands up in front of me.

"Sorry, sorry, not going anywhere, you just startled me is all."

Miss Militia took a breath and sat back down.

"Flash, you are not a Parahuman criminal, you are not being charged with a crime. That said, since you are involved, and are not affiliated with the Protectorate or Wards Program, I am going to need to ask you for your costume."

"Are you sure? It's my only one."

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a small smile.

"Just for a bit. Once our CSI's go over it, we will get it back to you. I promise we won't do anything to it to compromise your identity."

That…...didn't sound too bad.

"Can I run home and get a change of clothes? I can be there and back before you know it."

Again the slight frown.

"I'm afraid not. Chain of custody. That said, I have been in this boat before, and came prepared. I have a change of clothing for you and a generic mask you can wear."

"And I will get it back?"

"As soon as we can."

Slumping my shoulders in defeat, I stood up. Slowly this time.

"I guess I need that change of clothing then."

And again with the smile.

"I'm glad you're cooperating Flash. I have it in a bag in the hallway. I'll slide it in as I leave the room. You change in here, put your costume into the evidence bag that is with your change of clothing, and just let me know when you're finished."

With that Miss Militia stood and walked over to the door. Walking through it I saw her bend over and pick a bag up from the ground, setting it down just inside the room before she closed the door behind her. I made a quick look around the room for cameras. Even though I didn't notice any, I decided that I would find the aforementioned mask and put it on in the dark. I opened the bag and pulled out the plastic evidence bag. As it came out, the change of clothing underneath became visible.

"ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME?"

Inside of the bag was a red domino mask. Under the mask was a red hoodie with the "Official Protectorate" merchandise tag on it, the red broken up by yellow racing stripes in the form of a V. A note fluttered towards the ground as I held the hoodie up and it unfolded. Snatching the note out of the air, I opened it up and read it.

"Can't have the Flash Streaking home from the hospital. Catch you Later."

"-Assault"

******Authors Note*********

I'M BACK BABY! The MIDNIGHT WRITER WHAT WRITES AT MIDNIGHT! We are making gravy without the lumps here!

Ok, that is out of my system. Status check. House? Not underwater. Now with 100% as many walls as it used to have before demolition. Still working on the furniture (I have a couple of sofa beds and some mattresses, a table and some camp chairs, but gosh darn it the stove, refrigerator, washer and dryer just got delivered and man is that nice!).

On to the story. I have written a new bit (see above). Sadly, the slow bit of the story coincided with the long hiatus, but I am hoping to slog through it pretty quick and get back to the meat. I would say this story is somewhere between ¼ and ⅓ of the way though.

Until next time true believers!


	18. Ohm 4

Ride the Lightning

Ohm 3.4

"The State of the Board"

 **Piggot and Militia**

"Tell me again why we need the costume?"

While normally one to follow directives, Miss Militia was having…..issues with the current one.

Behind her desk, Emily Piggot adjusted some papers, seemingly collecting her thoughts before addressing the Cape.

"It's fairly simple Miss Militia. The Flash is, potentially, an extremely potent hero. She has, for reasons which I feel are flimsy at best, elected to remain more or less aloof from the Protectorate and the PRT. At the same time, she is cultivating a relationship with the local police department."

"I understand all of this. In fact, I thought that the relationship with the BBPD was a good thing."

Director Piggot could have suppressed the sigh.

She did not.

"On the surface it is always a good thing when there are positive relationships between Heroes and civilian law enforcement. Ideally those relationships are filtered through the PRT though. This allows us to mitigate events should a situation turn sour. As it stands, The Flash has managed to bypass us almost entirely."

Miss Militia scowed a bit at the exaggeration.

"Correct me if I'm wrong Director, but wasn't _your_ direction that we in no way pressure the Flash on the subject of Wards membership?"

"In this instance you are not wrong, that was and remains my position. Still, I feel that it is in the interest of the city to get her onto the same page as us. The sooner the better. Her needing to come to us to get her costume back, while not a planned strategy, is too good of an opportunity to pass up. She will enter our facilities, go on an 'impromptu' tour, maybe some power testing. Best of all, with her obvious fascination with law enforcement, the prospect of limited police powers might be what we need to grab her attention."

Still frowning, Miss Militia stood up.

"I should take off if I'm going to get there before she decides not to wait around."

Piggot leaned back in her chair.

"Let me know how it goes. Assault should be coming from headquarters with everything you need. Don't let him in the meeting though, I don't want her to have that relationship to fall back on so soon."

As soon as Miss Militia closed the door, Director Piggot swiveled her chair to the table behind her desk. Opening the laptop there, she pulled up the interview tape she had received yesterday evening. It had come in through back channels, no record of its having been sent to the PRT. The Flash wasn't the only one with friends in the Police Department.

Clicking on the media player, she watched as the video began. It showed the inside of an interrogation room. A plainclothes officer was in the foreground, the camera capturing the back of his head and shoulder. In full view was a handcuffed young man of asian extraction. The first vice heard came from the officer.

"Tell me again what happened?"

"That new chick, the Red Runner or whatever, came walking down the street with Lung."

"And what were they doing?"

"Just talking man, just talking all normal and shit. They walked right past me. Then Lung invites her out for fucking lunch sometime and goes inside. I was already stepping, next thing I know I'm all handcuffed in a police station."

Emily paused the video. This was the problem with Parahumans.

You never knew what they were going to do.

 **Assault and Velocity**

"Why are we doing this again?"

Assault couldn't help but to roll his eyes. Robin was a good guy, but sometimes he was a real stick in the mud.

"Look, word came down that the Director wants to make a small play for the Flash. I personally think that it's a dumbass play, but chain of command and all of that right?"

Velocity thought back to his Army days, then made a grunt of agreement.

"I've talked the the girl, and believe it or not, I actually know a few things about her."

"You know a few things about her? What things?"

Assault started folding the red hoodie as he continued.

"For starters, the kid is not dumb. She pays attention, makes generally good decisions, and has reasons for the decisions she makes. Secondly, smart as she may be, she doesn't have much of a clue about how her power works or how powerful she may be."

"And you do?"

"AND I do. Also, hand me that legal pad, I need to write a note."

Velocity blinked across the room and picked up the pad in question, walking it back over to Assault.

"How is that?"

Taking the pad, Assault scrawled out a quick note before answering.

"Do you even remember what I do? Kinetic energy manipulation? I touch it, I can manipulate it. It touches me, same thing. I shook hands with the Flash. She was standing still, no visible movement at all. After shaking her hand I had so much energy roiling around inside of me I thought my head was going to pop. I know powers tend to play fast and loose with things like physics, but I have never felt anything like that before, and I've been kicked by an Endbringer."

While Assault had been talking, Velocity had been thinking. On the surface, the Flash and he had very similar powers. The difference was that her power seemed to excel in all of the places where his failed him.

Meeting Assaults gaze, Velocity had to voice his last thought.

"If you really believe that about her…..why are you trying to antagonize her?"

Assault flashed his biggest grin while he closed up the bag that he would be passing off to Miss Militia.

"I'm not trying to antagonize her. I want her to think that I see her as someone relatable, and I want her to know that I'm comfortable enough with her to pull shit like this. It makes me seem approachable and trust me," Assaults tone and gaze darkened, "as good of a kid as she seems to be, there will come a time when it will just seem easier for her to permanently solve problem. Her power is like that, makes that approach easy. When that day comes, I want her to know she can come to me."

 **Joon and Pallani**

The meeting took place in the loft above the burnt out remains of a casino. As recently as a month ago, the Golden Lotus was one of the big money makers of the ABB. Cleaner than human trafficking, less competition than the drug market, an excellent asset to have in one's territory. Then the Undersiders came. Then Lung came. Now a husk was all that remained.

Joon stood on the surprisingly stable floor. While couches remained in this space, the char of fire and the water which had extinguished it precluded using them for their intended purposes. So he stood and waited for the Laotian to arrive. Just as he was beginning to feel this meeting was a setup of some kind, creaks on the stairs announced the arrival of one of the other ABB Captains.

Clearing the stairs and entering the loft, Pallani was a study in contrasts. A slight man, he carried himself with the air of an account. Indeed, that is what he was before he left Laos. In the United States Pallani had found work with the unions, managing retirement portfolios. This lasted until the shipping industry died in Brockton Bay. When so many of the ancillary workers lost retirements, Pallani had found himself blacklisted. The slide from upper middle class into poverty, from poverty to gang affiliation, had been a surprisingly quick one. Also surprising was Pallani's aptitude for the work. Though Joon had taken Pallani under his wing when he first joined the North Side Jopok, Pallani quickly rose through the ranks, until he was second in command, and Joon's direct boss.

Then Lung came to Brockton Bay.

Then there was no more Jopok. No more East Side Triad. No more Nippon Cartel. There was only the ABB.

There was only Lung.

Now though…

"Hello Joon, thank you for meeting me here."

Joon nodded slightly towards Pallani. Unsure of where this meeting would go, respect seemed like the order of the day.

"Hello Pallani. I am here as you asked. Alone as you asked. Why?"

"You may not be aware, no one below the rank of Captain is I think, but war is about to happen."

Joon felt a chill go down his spine. War meant a loss of business, it meant less food for his children, and the very real chance that he may die.

"Who is it we will be fighting? Has the Empire finally insulted Lung past the point of tolerance?"

Pallani shook his head. When he looked at Joon, there was a fire in his eyes that had not been present for several years.

"No Joon, we do not fight the Empire. This war shall be civil in nature."

"Civil?"

"You may not see it, but we do. Lung, who never truly cared for us, now is showing true apathy. Before the running of the ABB was in the hands of the Captains, with tribute going to Lung. We would give him cash, women, and respect. In return he walked the streets with us, made sure that the other gangs knew we were associated with him, and knew that reprisal would come should the insult be grave enough."

Pallani paused for a breath before continuing on.

"This has now changed. Lung still enjoys his women, but he has not visited with a Captain in a couple of weeks now. He will walk our territory, he speaks with the noodle merchant, the grocer, the tattoo artist. He is both with and without his mask. But the us, the the ABB, nothing."

Joon faintly shook as Pallani stepped into his personal space, eyes locked on his.

"Do you know what this means?"

Joon shook his head.

"It means that the ABB is about to be no more. All of the tensions, the rivalries that were pushed under because of Lung's mandate that we be one people….. they are about to erupt. When the time comes, will you be with me Joon?"

Joon swallowed, then straightened his back and squared his shoulders.

"To the Jopok."

Pallani smiled.

"To the Jopok."

 **Emma**

Emma Barnes sat in her bedroom and felt listless. It had been over three months since the abortive incident with the locker and she still had a hard time wrapping her mind around it. Taylor was gone. Sure, she still lived in the city, but for all intents and purposes, she was gone.

If it hadn't been for that last encounter with her in the school, Emma didn't think she would feel this way. All of the work that had gone into proving to Sophia that Taylor could be worthy of them, all of the betrayals, the ongoing escalation just to get a rise, to get Taylor to show the strength that Emma knew was hidden deep inside…..wasted.

Taylor was a survivor. She survived her mother's death. She survived her best friend turning on her. She survived a good portion of the school ignoring her. She survived fucking lightning hitting her. She survived it all, and came back to stand up to the three of them.

And then she left.

And Emma realized, way too late, that it didn't matter that Taylor survived, because in the process Emma had lost her.

Emma had thrown her away.

When Taylor first left the school after that last confrontation, Emma had been so hopeful. Sophia would see how things could be. Sure, Taylor wasn't going to be in school anymore, but Taylor was always so smart, she would do just fine being home schooled, and Emma would find a way to mend fences.

Things had not gone according to plan.

For starters, Sophia refused to see it.

"Sure, she showed some backbone. Bt she only did it because she knew she was leaving. Anyone can be brave and talk shit when they know they don't have to stick around and face the consequences."

"I don't know why you're still talking about the scarecrow, bitch is gone and I got better things to do than worry about her."

"Fuck. Off. With. This. Shit. Emma. I'm over fucking Hebert already."

It was around this point that Emma began to realize that, for all of her talk, Sophia really didn't care about strong versus weak. Sophia cared about Sophia being strong, and everyone else knowing their fucking place (hint: below Sophia).

Realizing for the first time in a long time what it was that she had thrown away, Emma locked herself in her room.

For three days.

On the fourth day Emma got dressed and left the house. She took a bus two neighborhoods over, got out on the corner, and walked a block and a half. Taking care to not step on the loose board, Emma knocked on the door.

"Emma? Taylor isn't here right now."

"That's ok Mister Hebert. I was wondering if I could come in and talk to you for a minute?"

 **Kaiser**

"Please make this short Krieg, I have a board meeting I need to get to."

Kaiser, leader of the Empire Eighty Eight, was used to the complicated juggling necessary when one runs both an illicit criminal organization as well as a large, mostly legitimate corporation. It all came down to scheduling. While he did his best to allow for unplanned interruptions, it was more difficult some days than others.

"Very well Kaiser. I have received word that the Flash has allied with the ABB."

Kaiser had been paying Krieg minimal attention as he bustled around his office, putting together his notes for the board meeting. With those words, Krieg had his undivided attention.

"I was under the impression the the Flash was in independant hero. Please explain to me how and why I was wrong?"

"A patrol officer on our payroll reported that the Flash was seen walking into ABB territory."

"And did she walk out again? Lung is not known to take trespass lightly, particularly from heroes."

"Not only did she leave the territory, but we have reports that she engaged Lung himself in a prolonged conversation, which ended with her removing a street dealer from directly in front of the beast. To date there has been no reprisal."

Kaiser sat down behind his desk, clasping his hands under his chin, eyes closed in thought.

Krieg waited silently, the only sound in the office the ticking of a clock. After several minutes had passed, Kaiser stood up and began walking towards the door.

"No, I don't agree with your interpretation. Something else is happening. Make sure the men are ready. I'm not sure what is coming, but I want to make sure we are in a position to capitalize on it."

"Yes sir."

 **Underground**

The monster growled.

*********Authors Note***********

JINKIES! What is this? Another chapter?!

For real though, I have been meaning to do something like this since all the way back around 2.1. We got a taste of it at the tail end of 2.4. Just because this is 3.4 doesn't mean that this is the end of 3 though. I wanted to show some behind the scenes, get more pokers in the fire and all of that.


	19. Ohm 5

Ride the Lightning

Ohm 3.5

Dad was waiting for me when I got home. It shouldn't have caught me by surprise, I did call him. Still, when I came through the door to the sounds of the television and my dad sitting on the couch waiting.

"Are you ok Taylor?"

"I….."

A few more steps into the house.

"I don't know?"

The sound of the couch, the creak of floorboards as someone walks across the room. The smell of stale aftershave and the pressure of loving arms wrapped around me. A voice in my ear.

"It's ok not to know. Want to talk about it?"

I nod. That might be overstating it, the barely perceptible rise and fall of my chin is all of the indication I give. Still, Dad picks up on it. He leads me over to the couch, lets me sit down.

We sit there quietly for a few minutes. In the background there is the sound some talking head chattering away on the tv. Sirens in the distance. For a moment I'm confused as to why I am hearing sirens when I didn't hear radio chatter. Then I remember I'm not wearing my costume...no built in police scanner.

Fuck.

Finally I pull back from Dad, remember that I'm a big name hero now, and pull myself together.

"I…"

And promptly fall apart again.

"I think she died."

"Who died Taylor?"

"Yulady. She was shot…..there was a shooting. A drive by thing I think. It was in a park and by the time I got there the bullets were already in the air. I had to get a kid out of the way, and she got hit, a couple of times. I took her to the hospital, but there was so much blood. And then the doctors took her and then there was this guy, a hospital lawyer I think, and then Miss Militia was there and they needed my costume, and I had to put this on and….."

Dad reached for my hand.

"And now it's real?"

I wiped my eyes with my other hand. No tears, just irritation.

I promise.

"It's not like I didn't know it was real Dad. I've been shot at, I've broken up muggings, I've even fought some Capes. I know it's real. This time though…"

"I know Taylor."

"How can you know?"

"I've worked around the docks for most of my life. Started as a gofer when I was just a year older than you are. I was 17 when I saw my first person die."

"Oh god, what happened?"

"People not paying attention. The docks were a busy place during those days. More overtime than anyone could want. Someone didn't rig a crate right, a line broke and it fell. Manny was crushed. I wasn't supposed to be there that day, but I was saving up for a car and they were offering the overtime."

Dad paused a moment.

"I have to walk by that spot several times a week. I wish I could say that you will forget it Taylor, I really wish I could. But that would be a lie."

I lowered my head. Definitely not crying. Dad lifted my chin, made me meet his eyes.

"I will tell you that you can come to terms with it and learn how to move on. Taylor, if you are serious about this hero thing, you will have to learn how to do that."

"Ok Dad."

After that we sat in an agreeable silence until the news was over. I stood up and stretched, heading into the kitchen to make some tea. From behind me, Dad called out.

"By the way Taylor, what did you mean when you said they took your costume?"

 **Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.**

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 **Private message from MissMilitia:**

 **MissMilitia:** Flash, I was given this account name by Assault. If this is you, please tell me where we last spoke.

 **FastestGirlAlive** **:** Brockton Bay General. In an office off of the main ER.

 **MissMilitia:** Thank you. I wanted to tell you that our people have finished with your costume. It's been processed and cleaned and is ready for pick up.

 **FastestGirlAlive** **:** Oh good. I've been running around in costume 1.0 with a handheld police scanner. Going backwards is such a pain. How do I get my stuff back?

 **MissMilitia:** It is in evidence storage at the PRT Headquarters downtown. Let me know when you can come by and

 **MissMilitia:** Just a moment, they are paging me.

 **MissMilitia *New Message*:** You're here right now aren't you?

 **MissMilitia *New Message*:** …

As soon as Miss Militia said I could pick up my costume I was off. A couple of minutes later and I was standing in front of a glass and steel building in the heart of downtown, the PRT Shield logo above it's doors. I refused to wear the Velocity hoodie on sheer principle, so this morning I had on a pair of generic pants, a black hoodie, and the domino mask I had received the other night. Squaring my shoulders I walked across the street and into the building.

Once inside I was faced with a roped off barrier, free standing metal detectors, and an array of armored PRT agents. I noted them noting me and my mask, but for the moment it looked like everyone was playing it cool. I approached the security guard at the first metal detector.

"Please state your alias and the purpose for your visit."

This said with all of the drone of bureaucracy.

"The Flash, Independant Hero, here to see Miss Militia."

"Is she expecting you?"

… shit.

"Ummm, probably not, but honestly she should be."

The man gave me a blank stare. I just shrugged my shoulders and put my hands in my pockets.

"Wait here, I'll call it up."

The man walked over to a phone installed on a column. As he walked away, one of the armored PRT agents walked over and took up his post. I just kind of ignored him until…

"Are you really the Flash?"

"Excuse me?"

He cleared his throat and repeated himself, his voice slightly distorted by his helmet.

"Are you really the Flash? I mean, that's not your costume if you are."

"Yep, real deal here."

I dashed back and forth in front of the ropes, going fast enough to blur, but not so fast as to disappear.

"Fastest girl alive. And you are?"

"I'm PRT Agent Walterson. We've actually met. Kind of."

I frowned a little.

"I haven't actually met many PRT agents. When did we meet?"

Somehow, this 6'5" (easily) man in armor managed to look sheepish as hell.

"I kind of foamed you at that fire a few weeks ago."

"YOU FUCKER!"...is what I thought.

"That was you?"

"Yes ma'am."

I looked him up and down, folded my arms, cocked my head to the side and just stared for a moment.

"Why?"

"Honestly? Nerves. I'm kind of new. They pulled me off the street and put me on lobby duty for a couple of months because of it."

Oh.

"Well Agent Walterson, as one newbie to another, I can understand jumping the gun and making mistakes. No harm, no foul?"

I held out my hand towards him.

Walterson seemingly grew another couple of inches as he stood up straight, taking my gloved hand in his gauntleted one.

"No harm, no foul ma'am. Glad to have you in the Bay."

Miss Militia took this moment to make her entrance into the lobby. She exchanged some whispered words with Unnamed Security Guard #3, who then returned to his original position, sending Walterson back to _his_ original position.

"Ok Flash, do you have any weapons to declare before stepping through the detector?"

"Nope, left them at home."

"Ok then, please step this way."

A moment later I was through, checked in, and had a shiny laminated badge hanging around my neck that read:

 **PRT GUEST**

 **ESCORT ONLY**

 **CAPE**

I was signing for the badge (and how weird is it to sign 'The Flash'?) when Miss Militia walked over to me.

"I would thank you for coming so quickly Flash, but it has actually caused a little bit of a problem?"

Despite nigh heroic efforts on my part, a groan escaped my throat.

"What problem?"

"Well, I didn't expect you to get here so fast," here Militia put her hands up in an effort to stop the mild scorn she had to know was forthcoming, "but it will take about an hour to process your property out of evidence. Now you could leave and come back, but that would mean having to go through security again. The other option is that you hang out for an hour. Maybe take a behind the scenes tour, get to know some of the people who are here to help you protect the city."

I would be lying if I said I wasn't annoyed. I still wasn't entirely sure what needed my costume for anyway, it's not like any of the blood on it was unaccounted for. Still, as far as I could tell they were within their rights to take it, as unusual a step as that may have been. A behind the scenes tour of the PRT HQ though….. yeah that was worth the wait.

Emily Piggot sat behind her desk, skimming the report in front of her while she listened to Armsmaster talk.

"And in summation the only anomaly found with the costume is the one that we know has nothing to do with the Flash's power. Namely, at 1729hrs on the day of the shooting, the built in police band scanner received a transmission which did not originate with BRPD central dispatch. No other scanning device in the city picked up the signal. According to the statement the Flash gave at the hospital, it was this dispatch which lead her to be in Hobbs Park during the shooting."

The Director frowned. Why was nothing ever simple.

"Do we know how this was done? According to your report, the scanner in the costume, while high quality, is over the counter, non-tinker tech. How did it receive a broadcast that nothing else in the city registered?"

It was now Armsmasters turn to frown.

"The simple answer? I don't know. I can speculate though."

"Please do."

"It is my belief that the signal was somehow phase shifted in such a way that it would only be receivable on the correct frequency, by a receiver that was traveling at a minimum velocity."

"That doesn't sound right. I've had a good bit of comm's experience, and I have never heard of a radio transmission working that way."

Armsmaster closed the folder that had been open on the desk between the two of them.

"That's because radio's don't work this way. I would conjecture that the source of the broadcast either employed a Parahuman ability, or tinker tech in order to manipulate the transmission in this way."

"Meaning…."

Armsmaster stood up.

"Meaning that, whoever made the fake dispatch _wanted_ the Flash in that park, at that time. Furthermore, if the Flash was for some reason not out and about at that time, this unknown person or persons was potentially willing to shoot up a park of bystanders on the chance that she would show up."

Emily slid the closed folder towards her side of the desk, placing the printed out report she had been scanning inside of it.

"Thank you Armsmaster. Excellent work."

"In here we have our on site shooting range. In addition to normal munitions, we have the capabilities to support live fire extrication drills, MOUT training, and tinker based ordnance."

I couldn't help but to whistle.

"Like the foam sprayers?"

"Among other things."

The range itself was impressive. Concrete and steel, stretching 200 meters in front of me. Excellent noise baffling kept the cavernous space from being murder on my ears. I couldn't help but note that the weapon at Miss Militias hip had long ago abandoned knives. Now it was flickering through a series of handguns, from the mundane to the exotic. Seeing one I recognized, a sudden urge hit me.

"Was that a Glock 19?"

The Protectorate Heroes eyebrows rose in surprise.

"It was."

"I don't suppose I could see you shoot at a few targets?"

"I…..don't think that would be a problem. Stand over here."

Miss Militia indicated a yellow safety line. I dutifully took up my position while she walked over to a locker, returning with a couple of pairs of earmuffs. While I placed mine on, Miss Militia walked forward to the firing line. Holding the glock in a two handed grip, Miss Militia lead with her left foot, weight on the toe as if she were prepared to take a step. In one smooth motion the gun came up and she began to fire, a series of evenly spaced and rapid thumps in my ears marking the smooth rate of fire. When she finished I watched her clear and holster the weapon, then gesture for me to come forward. I pulled off my ear protection while she retracted the target.

I was whistling alot today. I only saw 5 holes, but I knew all 17 rounds had passed through the target.

"That was seriously impressive Ma'am. Was that a fighter's stance?"

Again the look of surprise from the Protectorate Hero.

"It was. Do you shoot?"

"I've been shooting for a few months now. Completely non-cape related. I use a glock 19 by the way, that's why I asked."

Miss Militia seemed to think for a moment.

"Would you like to put some rounds down range? We still have about half an hour. We can do this, then I can show you where the Wards are based out of."

I almost said no, then thought, "when else am I going to get this chance?"

"Sure."

Kid Win was manning the console. In his (to his mind) expert opinion, that particular job was a waste of time. The Protectorate and PRT oversaw all Wards activity in the region, all the Wards console did was act as an extra layer of redundancy on the comm system. Still, it did occasionally mean that he got to find out something before everyone else. Looking at the message that just popped up in front of him, Kid Win decided that this was one of those times that made console duty worth it.

"Hey Carlos, did you know we were getting a visitor today?"

The recently christened leader of the Wards shook his head and frowned.

"I did not. Do you know who it is?"

"I do. Apparently the Flash is in the building with Miss Militia."

From the couch on the other side of the room a voice called out.

"No shit, The Flash is here?"

"Yeah Dennis, in the building as we speak. I got an alert saying that her and Miss Militia would be up here in about ten minutes."

"Oh cool, she's nice I think you'll like her," Vista said as she exited the dorm section.

"Why do you think she's here?"

Conversation momentarily stopped as the collective Wards realised it had been Shadow Stalker who asked the question.

Kid Win pulled up the console messages for the day and skimmed through them again.

"No idea. I have nothing saying she was coming or was expected until the message just now. You think she's going to join?"

Vista shook her head firmly.

"I really don't think so. Given what she can do, I kind of agree with her, we would just slow her down."

Shadow Stalker stood quietly for a moment, then nodded and walked over to the couch, taking up a lazy position on the end.

And waited.

The elevator ride to the Wards area was unbelievably smooth. Slow, but smooth. When we stepped out into the hallway, Miss Militia lead me over to a door and scanned an id badge. I started to walk forward, then came up short when I noticed the door hadn't opened. I gave Miss Militia a quizzical look.

"It's on a delay. Gives the Wards inside notice that someone is coming in so they have a chance to put on their masks."

"Ah, that makes sense. Automatic doors are kind of the bane of my existence, so I wasn't sure."

It was Militia's turn to give me the look.

"I go fast, automatic doors don't. I have a love/hate relationship with web browsing built around the same issue."

"Ah."

The door finally slid open and I walked into the domain of the Wards. It was…. surprisingly mundane. Couches, computers, a television with some video game systems hooked up. I could see a couple of hallways heading away from the main common area. The most outlandish thing in the room was actually the Wards themselves.

I could see Kid Win in his distinctive red and gold body armor. Good colors those. Over on the couch were Clockblocker and Shadow Stalker. A tall, well muscled boy in a rust colored costume was walking towards me with Vista at his side.

Aegis.

Extending his hand, I reached out and met it.

"Hello Flash, it's nice to meet you. I'm Aegis, here are Vista, Clockblocker, Shadow Stalker, and Kid Win. Welcome to the Wards HQ."

I smiled despite myself. It was such a corny welcome, but said with pure earnestness.

"Thanks for letting me stop in."

"Where's your costume?" Vista was looking me over, taking in the civilian clothing I had on.

"That's actually why I'm here. There was an….incident the other day."

"What kind of incident?"

Miss Militia stepped a little further into the room.

"The kind that doesn't really concern anyone here. Suffice it to say, the Flash is here to retrieve her costume from PRT evidence. We thought a tour would be a good way to pass the time. Not surprisingly, she arrived much quicker than anyone anticipated."

Clockblocker fell off the couch. I started to move towards him, but he was on his feet quickly enough.

"Did Miss Militia just make a joke? I like it."

The white armored hero walked across the room and held out his hand towards me.

"Sorry if I run my mouth off too much. I'm Clockblocker and it's nice to meet you."

I reached out to take his hand. Just as I was about to clasp it, I noticed Vista's eyes widening, her mouth starting to open. I yanked my hand back as quickly as I could...leaving behind my glove, suspended in the air, grasping Clockblockers hand.

My eyes went wide.

"What the fuck just happened?"

Clockblocker made several attempts to pull his hand away from the suspended glove. Finally he gave up and looked at me, shrugging his shoulders.

"Bullshit. That's what just happened."

**********Authors Note**********

Plugging away. I am trying to get to where the story would have been by this time. There should be one more chapter at this location, then 1-3 more chapters to wrap up Ohm. We will see how it goes.


	20. Ohm 6

Ride the Lightning

Ohm 3.6

"Bullshit. That's what just happened."

"Did you just try to use your power on me?"

The room went quiet at my question. A year and a half of bullying tends to make one pretty good at reading body language. It becomes something of a survival mechanism. While costumes worked to obscure various cues, somethings were still obvious. Kid Win and Miss Militia each showed various degrees of anger. Clockblocker looked sheepish. Vista looked like she was just this side of livid. Shadow Stalker...was unchanged. She remained seated on the couch, taking in the scene.

I was, frankly, pissed.

"Did you try to use your fucking power on me?

"Well, um, sorry. No really, I'm sorry. It's just a prank I play on new Wards when they first get here. No harm intended."

Miss Militia walked around and placed herself between Clockblocker and myself.

"Flash, on behalf of the Protectorate ENE, I want to apologize. This shouldn't have happened and Clockblocker **will** be disciplined. We don't tolerate this kind of behavior."

Before I could say anything else there was a buzzing sound and the lamps in the room flashed yellow.

"What's going on?"

"Mask alarm," Vista said, still eyeing Clockblocker.

"Oh right."

As everyone had their masks on already, this lead to a minute of awkward silence. I moved so as to face the door, Clockblocker still trapped by the time locked glove. Finally the door opened and a tall man in blue power armor walked in, a large plastic bag in his hands. Armsmaster had arrived with my costume.

About fucking time.

With the door closing behind him, I could see the hero taking in the room, slight turns of his head as he tracked each of our positions.

"Flash, I have your costume here. I would like to apologize for the inconvenience, but I do have a couple of forms for you to sign before I return it."

"Forms, really?"

Miss Militia shrugged.

"The bureaucracy must be fed. Would you like it if I went over them with you?"

"Why not?"

Miss Militia walked over to Armsmaster and took the package with my costume from him as well as a folder. For his part, Armsmaster was looking intently at Clockblockers trapped hand.

"How did this happen?"

I struggled to keep an annoyed growl out of my voice.

"Ask Mr. Attempted Assault and Battery over there," I said, indicating Clockblocker with a nod of my head.

Kid Win spoke up from the console, "Assault and Battery aren't here."

"That's not what she meant," Aegis began, "she is using the legal terms. And she is right. Damn it Clockblocker I've talked to you about this. I don't care if it's harmless, it's reckless and is only a complaint away from being illegal."

Clockblocker didn't say anything, instead he was still struggling to pull his hand from my frozen glove. For her part, Shadow Stalker seemed to take in the whole conversation with….some satisfaction. She still wasn't voicing anything though.

Aegis and Armsmaster stood close to Clockblocker and spoke in hushed tones while I began going over paperwork with Miss Militia. Sign a form acknowledging I had received back the following:

 **1 Costume (non-Protectorate Issue)**

 **Boots (1pr)**

 **Pants (1pr)**

 **Belt (1)**

 **Utility pouch (4)**

 **Contents of Utility pouches**

 **ZipCuffs (20)**

 **Energy Bar (5)**

 **Trauma Dressing (2)**

 **Yellow Hazzard Tape (1 roll)**

 **Costume Jacket (1)**

 **Costume Undershirt (1)**

 **Costume Mask (1)**

 **Commercial Police Band Scanner (1)***

"Why does this have an asterisk by it?"

Miss Militia reached for the inventory sheet.

"What do you mean?"

"Right here," I pointed, indicating the line, "there is an asterisk by my police scanner."

"I can explain that," Armsmaster called out, walking over from his position near Clockblocker. When he reached the table he picked up the sealed plastic bag with my costume in it.

"I'm going to open this up and go over it with you before you sign for custody. I want to ensure that we are on the same page."

"Ok."

Pulling the plastic open, Armsmaster reached into the bag ad removed my mask. He turned it a little inside out so I could see the ear piece.

"Um, that's not my police scanner."

"You're correct, it is not. In the course of examining your costume we discovered that the built in scanner was non-operational."

"Well it was working before I gave you guys my costume."

"I don't think it was."

Well that's just confusing.

"What makes you say that?"

Armsmaster reached back into the bag and produced a second, smaller bag. This one he opened on the table and pulled out my scanner….. the remains of my scanner.

"Upon examination I was able to determine that this scanner had been compromised. An unknown person or persons were able to overwhelm it with an unauthorized transmission. In the process it was burned out."

Here he indicated a charred bit of electronics which were exposed in the ear piece.

"Well shit. Do you know how hard that was to rig up?"

"Do you have any experience in electronics?"

"Not really. I read about it at the library."

"Well for amatour work it really wasn't bad."

"Still I...wait a minute. You said it was compromised? You mean, someone intentionally targeted my scanner?"

Armsmaster started to answer me, but I needed to think. I began to vibrate, speeding up, letting time subjectively slow around me as my thoughts and perceptions increased speed. Someone targeted me. Who? Who would know to? There were more papers in the folder Armsmaster had handed to Miss Militia. I reached for it, sliding it across the table, a stray bit of lightning arcing off of my hand. Inventory, release of liability, specifications for a new scanner? Set that aside, I could come back to it. There, bottom of the stack, a report from Armsmaster to Director Piggot, PRT ENE Branch. Man Armsmaster believes in using $5.00 words. Come on, come on, summary.

"At this time there is nothing to indicate a likely party responsible for the signal which compromised Flash's police scanner **(see evidence number: ENE2011003201).** What is known is that those responsible either utilized tinkertech with a focus on the transmission of electronic signals, a similar parahuman ability, or advanced mundane technology deployed in an innovative and unorthodox manner. It is my recommendation that the Flash be made aware of this compromise and steps be taken to prevent another such event in the future."

Well… shit.

I allowed myself to slow down, sliding the folder back into position. Armsmaster finally began to speak.

"I believe so, yes. Furthermore, It is my belief that those responsible either utilized tinkertech with a focus on the transmission of electronic signals, a similar parahuman ability, or advanced mundane technology deployed in an innovative and unorthodox manner."

Well the man was nothing if not consistent.

"So if that hunk of junk is the scanner that I spent literal minutes modifying, then what's this in my mask?"

"Yes, your mask. When the PRT initially discovered that your scanner was inoperable, it was unknown if it had become damaged while in PRT custody. Your report for the incident in question indicated that the scanner was functional beforehand. When the costume was turned over to the Protectorate in order to return it to you, I elected to replace and upgrade the scanner."

I got a little excited, "You mean I get a tinker built scanner?"

Armsmaster shook his head slightly.

"You get a PRT issue radio, modified by myself, but still essentially normal tech. It is programmed with the normal emergency band frequencies, but with the following modifications. You will have the ability to scan PRT dispatch, but dispatch only. You also have the ability to transmit. Before you do so, you need to seek the approval of each agency involved. I can tell you from personal experience, people get….upset if you just break into their broadcasts. Miss Militia, would you please hand me the folder?"

Miss Militia reached for the folder in front of her and frowned, then looked up at me. Again with the piercing eyes. She did pick up the folder and passed it to Armsmaster. For his part, Armsmaster reached into the folder and pulled out the papers describing the new scanner, turning to the last page.

"This is an instruction guide for the new radio. On the last page I have a signed authorization for you to be able to access the PRT and Protectorate dispatch band, as well as the guidelines we use for transmissions. As long as you follow those guidelines, you will be able to call for help, report disturbances, and respond in certain situations."

I took the paper and read over it. It seemed like a good deal. Maybe a little too good.

"This radio doesn't have a tracker in it, does it?"

Armsmaster shook his head.

"While the standard unit does have a tracker, I removed it from this unit. For that reason, should you ever call for help, it is imperative that you know your location."

"Well, that sounds like a pretty good deal then. Is there somewhere I can change?"

Miss Militia smiled, apparently happy with where this meeting had gone.

"Sure, one of the Wards can show you to a changing area."

Shadow Stalker moved for the first time since I arrived, standing up from the couch and walking towards the second hallway, a wave of her arm indicating that I should go with her.

Taking the package with me, I 'hurried' to catch up to the Ward.

We entered a hallway with doors on each side. There were reinforced doors recessed into each side of the walls. The floor was tiled with a high traffic carpet running down the middle. While the common room had been brightly lit, this hallway had a more subdued light level, the lights themselves hidden in recessed alcoves. I walked slightly behind and to the left of Shadow Stalker, paying as much attention to her as I did my surroundings. The quiet Ward moved with the fluid grace of an athlete, her steps silent as she led me towards the end of the hall.

"You haven't been a Ward for very long have you?"

"No," was the gruff reply.

"Mind if I ask why you signed on instead of staying independent? It's been working out pretty well for me so far."

"It's personal."

Well Shadow Stalker would never be accused of being overly loquacious. When we got to the end of the hallway she pushed open a door and held out her arm, showing me into a smallish locker room. I guess it makes sense that the locker room would be small. How many Wards were they likely to have at a time? And how many of the same gender? To the best of my knowledge, Brockton Bay only had two female Wards, so the five lockers were more than enough.

I heard the door close behind me and was about to start changing when Shadow Stalker grunted. Turning to look at her, the hero held a finger up in front of her mask, making the universal signal for 'quiet.' I nodded at her and watched expectantly. Shadow Stalker made a short circuit of the room, pointing to a light fixture, to an outlet, and to a trashcan. Walking into the center of the room, she came to a stop directly in front of me. From her pocket she pulled out a folded up sheet of paper and handed it to me before turning and walking through the door and out of the room. Cautiously I opened the sheet of paper and saw a sloppily written note.

 _Microphones in here. No camera's. I wouldn't linger if I were you._

I felt my blood run cold. Sure, there were probably many reasons for the room, hell for the entire building to be wired for sound. Perfectly valid, security driven reasons. But there was no reason for them not to tell me I was going into one.

With the exception of the mask, I quickly changed into my normal costume. I wouldn't use the scanner in the mask until I found somebody who could check it over for me. Leaving the locker room I headed back towards the common area. On arrival I saw that everyone had repositioned themselves. Shadow Stalker was nowhere to be seen, but everyone else was gathered around Clockblocker, who was still standing in front of the door with his hand held in the air.

"So do I need to hang around, or can someone show me out of the building?"

"Just a moment Flash," Armsmaster called out.

"Just because I'm fast doesn't mean I don't have places to be. What's the hold up?"

"I have a quick question about your power. When you run, have there ever been any temporal disturbances?"

What?

"Temporal…. what, like time effects? No. I just go really fast."

"So you've never lost time, or had to reset your watch after a prolonged period of superfast travel?"

I walked closer to the group, genuinely curious now.

"Not once. Why, what's going on?"

The group parted to show Clockblocker, his hand still grasped by my glove.

By all of our reckonings, it has been almost 15 minutes since Clockblocker attempted to use his power on you...and it hasn't worn off yet."

"Is that not normal?"

Clockblocker frantically shook his head.

"No, it's not normal. The longest it has ever held was ten minutes, so if this is something you could turn off, that would be super great!"

I walked closer, reaching out my hand towards the time locked glove. Just as I was about to touch it, the building shook.

"What the hell was that?"

Armsmaster's hand lept to the side of his helmet. He mumbled under his breath for a moment, clearly in conversation. Before he finished the lights in the room flashed red, Kid Winn running over to the console. He was reading from the screen as Armsmaster dropped his hand and addressed the room.

"At least ten bombs just detonated simultaneously around the city. We have reports of members of the ABB fighting each other all across their territory. Apparently a Cape new to the group, Bakuda, just announced that she was taking over the gang."

"What about Lung," I asked, my voice a whisper."

Whatever answer Armsmaster was about to give was lost to the roar of another explosion, this one much closer.

*********Authors Note********

Ok, probably the last chapter for the weekend. This one is a little shorter than the last few, but hopefully it makes for a good transition to what is coming. Taking the family out to see Doctor Strange this evening, and I have some WoW to catch up on in addition to this story. Still, nice to finally get to some things progressing. I am feeling a little better about adding more people to a scene, but still am having a hard time managing too many voices at once. Fingers crossed that this continues to improve over time.


	21. Ohm 7

Ride the Lightning

Ohm 3.7

"This is Director Piggot. I am declaring a state of PArahuman Emergency within the city of Brockton Bay. All PRT Agents are to report to their unit commanders for assignment. All Protectorate Parahuman Assets are to report to their pre-assigned rally points. Emergency Briefing in the Action Room in 10 minutes."

The announcement finished it's second play through before being again being replaced with annoying alarm klaxons. Armsmaster and Aegis had left, heading towards the Action Room, wherever that was. The rest the Wards who were present were subdued, anxious. Kid Win had tried to leave when Miss Militia reminded him that he wasn't to go anywhere without orders. Why was I still here?

Clockblocker.

"Isn't there anything you can do to get my hand away from this glove?" A note of desperation had entered his voice, clearly he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to help in the current crisis.

I looked at the glove, a little hesitant to touch it.

"I'm not sure. Nothing like this has ever happened before. You're sure this isn't your power?"

"No, it's not my power. My power flat out does not last this long."

"I don't think there is anything I can do."

The panic in his voice was palpable.

"Are you serious? Are you fucking serious?"

"I'm sorry, I just….I don't know…."

Miss Militia stood next to me.

"Flash, I know that you may be a little upset, but we need to get ready to mobilize. Trust me, Clockblocker will be reprimanded for his little joke, but we need him right now. Is there anything you can do?"

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit… It's like I'm the one who is trapped. It's not my fault, how was I supposed to know that this would happen? It's not like my powers came with an instruction book. Was I going to be in trouble? I needed to not be here, I need to be out there helping. Bombs are going off all over the city, people are getting hurt, people are dieing. Why am I here?

My body began to shake, normal micro vibrations aggravated by my distress. I felt like my head was filling with static, blackness crawled across the edge of my vision, a roaring filling my ears. Something was there, something at the tip of my tongue, on the periphery of my mind.

Everyone in the room began to sway back and forth, looking for all the world like they were on the edge of sleep.

 _Two beings, immense, spiraling through space…._

My muscles were twitching, sparks of electricity dancing along my body, my skin alive the with sensations.

 _Trajectory?_

 _Agreement._

 _Destination?_

The roaring in my head grew louder. My vision took on a golden haze and the lightning danced over my body. Just when I couldn't take it anymore, I thought I heard a voice, from the innermost part of my mind, in a voice that was profoundly different, but at the same time was my own.

" _ **Run Taylor, all you have to do is run."**_

My vision cleared. Everyone in the room shook their heads, as if clearing cobwebs. Clockblocker has calmed slightly, but was beginning to get agitated again. I turned slowly in place, making eye contact with everyone in the room.

Then I began to run.

I lapped the room, once, twice, ten times, a hundred times. Moving around statues, electricity arcing from my body as I built up speed. I felt the lightning sing in my veins, felt my body vibrate, felt the fundamental relationship between me and everything else protest before it simply changed.

Breaking off from my circuit of the room I turned and ran straight for Clockblocker. Making contact with him I allowed the speed I had built up, the sense of vibration in my body, to propagate down my arms and into him. I hesitated just a moment, slowing my forward momentum to enure it passed into him, and then I pushed off as hard as I could. There was the feeling of pressure normally associated with moving things at speed, but it was different. My perception was different. I could see everything moving but not moving. There were gradients. The people moved more than the floor and walls did. The frozen glove didn't move at all. I pushed Clockblocker and his movement shot up past everyone else, approached the rate I was moving, I was vibrating at. His hand passed through the glove as I moved him forward. We passed through the doors and into the hall, through the other wall and into the elevator shaft. I turned us around in an arc and we did it again. Wall, then hall, then wall, then Wards common room.

Clockblocker fell to the floor. Everyone else jumped. From their perspective I had blurred around the room for a couple of seconds before seemingly teleporting Clockblocker and myself from his previous position to the middle of the room….. And somehow leaving the top of his costume behind.

"What the," Clockblocker began, before promptly doubling over and throwing up the contents of his stomach.

Into his helmet.

"Sorry, first time I tried that," I offered, slightly out of breath.

"What did you just do?" Miss Militia was looking at me differently than she had ever done so before.

The answer I was about to give was cut off by the sounds of another explosion, not too terribly distant. I reached inside and tapped the lightning, felt it crawl across my body.

"I ran."

And with that I took off, past the gathered Wards, through the wall, and out of the building.

Emerging from the side of the building I stopped moving for a microsecond, throwing off my inertia, arcs of golden lightning continuing along my original path. Bereft of forward momentum, I turned down, facing the street. I began to run again, feeling the force of my speed not…..adhere me to the side of the building so much as let me ignore the downward pull of gravity, instead turning it into forward momentum. In the distance I could see columns of smoke, the hazy orange light of fires, moving ever so imperceptibly slow as they rose further into the air.

Approaching the ground I lept from the side of the building, arcing to the street, and landing at a run. The PRT HQ was quickly left in the distance as I ran towards the Docks. I needed to check on Dad.

I shot through the city, trying not to let myself get distracted. Still, there were people hurting, people in danger. I passed a burly Asian man swinging a fire ax at another man's head. I grabbed the ax handle as I passed by, pulling it and the man swinging it with me. I let go ten blocks further down the road and four blocks over, letting him finish his swing into the side of an armored car. If I had stayed around, I'm sure I would have been treated to a panicked yelp of surprise fighting with a cry of pain. He had been swinging that ax pretty hard.

Closer to the docks I had my first direct brush with the bombings. There was a blister in the road. As I got closer to it I figured out what was happening. The street was in the process of exploding upwards, creating a large hump that was expanding rapidly enough for me to watch it happening. At the apex of the hump, a look of absolute panic on his face, was an obviously homeless man. He was slowly standing up from a bent forward position, his hand holding a ug of water. There was a small cable running from the jug of water into the street.

Detonator.

I could see a shock wave forming in the air around the expanding road. I accelerated, running up the asphalt blister, aware of the difference in sensation as I transitioned from relatively solid street to the heart of the explosion. I grabbed the man and maintained my speed and trajectory, leaving the road surface at the top of the hump and angling towards the wall of the tenement building across the street. We ran up the wall, over the roof top, and jumped to the next. I left the man on the fire escape and continued on. City blocks blurred past me until I came to a stop in front of a chain link fence with a sign on it.

 **International Association of Dockworkers Local 1052.**

Coming to a stop allowed sounds to rush back into existence for me. I could hear distant screams, cries of pain and anguish, shock and fear. In front of me I could see dockworkers. Most I didn't recognize, some I did. Older men and women who had long ago hurt themselves on the job, who had been given administrative jobs, supervisory positions, anything my Dad could do to help them make a check and get by. They were heading into the building. If they were here, he was here.

I waited until the door was approached by someone I recognized, Bibbo Bibbowski. When he started pulling the door open I dashed into one of the port-a-johns behind the building and changed into what I had worn to the PRT HQ, minus the domino mask. I dashed back around to the front of the building and, making sure no one was watching, slowed into a normal run.

"Mister Bibbo, hold the door!"

The large man stopped at the sound of my voice, turning his head. A look of happy surprise was quickly replaced by one of mingled anger and fear.

"Little Taylor, what are you doing here? It's not safe."

Catching up to him, I feigned catching my breath.

"I had to see my Dad. I need to know he's ok."

"And a phone is too hard to work?"

I treated him to my sternest look. We locked eyes for what felt like an eternity. It was closer to ten seconds

Erupting in the deep belly laughs that I remembered from years ago, Bibbo placed a large hand between my shoulder blades and ushered me into the building.

"Come on Little Taylor, I'll take you to ya Dad.

Walking through the building, I was reminded of the state of the local Dockworkers. While the walls and floor were clean, they were also worn, as tired looking as my Dad was when he came home at the end of a week. We walked down the main entrance hall towards the work room, a large, open room. Years ago, according to Dad, this room would be filled every morning with Dockworkers picking up assignments, completely empty by 8am with open jobs left waiting to be filled. Nowadays it would have those who still bothered to show up waiting around for whatever scraps of work came in. As we neared the double doors, I could hear murmuring voices.

Opening the doors was like walking into chaos. The space was filled with Dockworkers as well as their families. On the stage at the front was my Dad, his voice raised, his arms gesturing.

"Thompson, take Peter's, JackJack, Burley Jim and Rasheed and head to the North end of the lot. Sally-Anne, you take Old Bob, Young Bob, Pete, and Davis and head to the South end. Mike, I want you to take Not-Dave, the Ant, Flanders and Radar out to the West side fence. Everyone's radios need to be on channel 2. Call in anything you see AS SOON as you see it."

"AND WHERE SHOULD WE GO YOU SKINNY BASTARD?"

Bibbo's deep voice quieted the room and grabbed my Dad's attention.

"Bibbo? _Taylor?_ What are you doing here?"

Laughing and walking towards my Dad with me in tow, Bibbo gave a quieter response.

"I'm a lifetime member Dannyboy, where else would I be. Also, I found your little lady outside looking for you, thought she could use an escort past all of these miscreatary fellows."

"Taylor, are you ok?"

"I am Dad, but I need to talk to you."

Dad was quiet for just a moment. I doubt anyone else would have noticed.

"Sure Taylor, we can go to my office. Bibbo, could you cover things until Kurt gets here?"

In a much more subdued voice, Bibbo answered, "Sure Danny, I've got the ship."

Handing his radio over to Bibbo, Dad and I walked out a side door, then down the hall to the cramped office Dad seemed to call home half the time. Closing the door behind us, Dad turned and gave me a tight hug.

"When the explosions started, I was so worried about you kid. What have you been doing?"

I returned the hug, squeezing as tight as I could.

"I was worried about you to. I was at that place picking up my outfit when the bombings started. I ran out thinking I could help some people, but when I saw how bad it was, I…. I needed to make sure you were safe first."

"Taylor don't worry about me. I'm one of the safest people in the city. Back before Endbringers were a thing, the Union hall was a fall back shelter for all of the workers and their families. That's what we're doing now. Be safe, but go do your thing."

I hesitated.

"Taylor?"

"Dad, I think this might be my fault."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember when I told you I met with Lung? I think, if I hadn't of done that, then this wouldn't be happening."

"Oh Taylor, don't think that."

"Why not?"

"Because these things sometimes happen Taylor. Would this be happening right now if you had never met with Lung? Maybe, maybe not. Something like this doesn't happen overnight, or in a week."

"But.."

"I know you want to stop all of the bad from happening, but you can't. No one can."

"Then what should I do?"

Dad smiled down at me.

"Do all the good that you can. By all the means you can. In all the ways you can. In all the places you can. At all the times you can. To all the people you can. As long as you can."

My eyes widened a little at his words. It had been years since I had heard them, not since before Mom had died.

"Thanks Dad."

"Be safe Taylor."

Dad opened his window. I stuck my head through, made sure the coast was clear. Giving Dad another hug, I turned and did what I do best.

I ran.

**********Authors Note**********

Ok, for realsies, this is the last post for the weekend. I am trying to decide if I should do the bombing as the last several chapters of Ohm, or if I should follow this with an interlude and have the anti-bombing campaign as the first part of the next arc. For those who don't know, what Danny said at the end is a quote from John Wesley. No I am not inserting religion into my story. The reader can interpret it however they wish, but I felt like it communicates an excellent sentiment.


	22. Ohm 8 (Interlude)

Ride the Lightning

Ohm Interlude

Reality is a big place.

Infinite really.

Most people have no conception what infinite means. Sure, anyone who has drawn a number line in third grade can tell you that infinite is within end, but they say i without understanding it.

So reality is mind numbing large and all encompassing.

Except that it isn't. The reality of other worlds, the existence of a multiverse, belise the "all" part of "all encompassing." When one then considers that there may be an infinity of infinite worlds, well it would not be inappropriate for a little frothing at the mouth to take place.

Here though, is a secret of existence.

Reality, all realities, are tiny. In fact, they only occupy a single point.

When seen from the outside.

When you are outside of reality, looking down, you can reach in and touch anywhere you want, at anytime, because every "anywhere" is in fact the same "everywhere."

Confusing?

Don't worry, from a certain frame of reference it is the easiest concept there is to grasp. You just have to catch it.

 **Madison**

Madison was confused. The school year was going to end in a little more than a month, she was popular beyond what one might expect for a sophomore, but there was a sense of….endings. Of things falling apart.

The bell rang, announcing the end of the day. Sophia darted out the door, heading to track practice. Emma, after pausing to let Sophia disappear, also headed straight for the door.

"Emma want to hit the mall?"

No response, her friend just continued through the door and out of sight. Frowning, Madison put the last of her papers into her backpack and closed it. Frowning again, Madison walked towards the door.

Things fall apart.

Madison rode the bus home. She was still getting used to it. Throughout most of the last two years she had managed to be picked up and dropped off. The rides came from friends, those who wanted to be friends, and her parents. Until March, it had primarily been Emma's dad who had given the rides.

In the end, Madison supposed it came back to Taylor. She was the bridge too far. Before meeting Taylor, Madison had never really been one given to bullying. She had been homeschooled for her elementary education. While she wasn't too clear on the details, she knew her mom and dad had some pretty out there religious beliefs in their younger days. They didn't like to talk about that time and would always yell at Madison when she asked about it. Still, sometimes little things came out. Madison can remember the move from Texas when she was 9 years old. They had packed up in the middle of the night and left behind anything that didn't fit in the car. At the time Madison thought of it like it was a game. From time to time the family had gone on road trips, meeting up with other families for revels. As one of the younger kids, Madison was kept away from the main activities, but she still had fun in the children's areas. Madison had an aptitude when it came to arts and crafts. Macaroni angels, finger painting mountains with eyes; she once made an elaborate diorama of the islands sinking into the ocean. All of these things were left behind when her family left the compound.

It was almost a month later when Madison asked her father when they were going home.

"We're not going back to that home Maddi, we are going to get a new home."

"But what about my toys? My books?"

"You'll get new ones, don't worry about it."

Little Madison thought about it.

"New arts and crafts supplies too?"

Her father smiled at her.

"Yes Maddi, new arts and crafts supplies too."

Madison couldn't stop herself from bouncing in the back seat of the car, her joy translating to volume.

"YES! Thank you daddy! I'm so much better now then when I was little, I can make all of my old projects over again, even better than before! What do you think I should make the wings out of…"

"NO!," her father screamed, slamming on the brakes and pulling the car onto the shoulder of the road.

Madison cowered, trying to retreat further into the seat.

"Madison you can't make ANYTHING like that again! None of it! Do you understand? We are going to a new home, for a new life."

Seeing how fearful Madison was, her father softened his tone.

"It won't be all bad. We have to meet with some people, then we get a new house, and new names even."

"New names?"

"Yes Maddi, new names."

Madison was quiet for a for minutes, the only sound the rushing of cars passing them on the interstate.

"Can I still be Madison? I like being your Maddi."

"We will see what we can do."

Madison snapped herself out of her memories as the bus pulled up in front of her home. What had she been thinking about? That's right.

Taylor.

Ever since Taylor had shown up to withdraw from school, things seemed to be drifting apart. It was subtle at first. Emma was distant. Sophia was…..Sophia for awhile. Then something must have happened because Sophia came to school and became a cold bitch. All she did was go to class, then go to the gym. Or the track. Before she had been a girl who was popular because she was a gifted athlete who hung out with other popular people. Now she was just this driven jock with no time for anyone.

Emma was…..

Emma just looked lost. She was still beautiful, boys still wanted her and girls would still hang around her to share in that reflected attention.

But Madison knew Emma, and she could tell that the girl was just going through the motions. Madison tried reaching out to her, but whatever was going on with her, Emma didn't seem to want help.

For a while Madison just thought, "Fuck it," and tried to step into the alpha bitch role. It had not worked out. So now Madison was just marking time until the school year ended. The summer would give her a chance to reinvent herself. She had done it before, she could do it again. The first two years of high school didn't really count anyway. No matter who she went back to school as in the fall, nerdy girl, goth chick; prep or stoner, Madison was determined to make her last two years of high school pass by on her terms.

Madison pulled the front door closed behind her.

"Mom! Dad! I'm home."

She didn't expect anyone to answer, but she enjoyed the ritual of it. Dropping her bag next to the kitchen island, Madison grabbed an apple wand walked up the stairs towards her room. Reaching the landing, Madison saw that her bedroom door was ajar.

"God damn it mom, you know you're not supposed to go into my room."

Pushing the door the rest of the way open, Madison dropped the apple.

"Hello Madison, welcome home."

Seated in her computer chair, dressed in tight black jeans and a red t-shirt, Taylor Hebert was smiling at her.

"What are you doing in my house Taylor? In my room?"

Taylor leaned back in the chair, looking like the most comfortable person in the world.

"I figured it was time for the two of us to have a talk."

Madison took a couple of steps into the room, closing some of the distance.

"And what exactly would we talk about?"

Taylor smiled, her already too wide mouth stretching up at the corners.

"We have a lot in common, you and I."

"The fuck we do ARCH!"

Madison jumped as her bedroom door slammed shut behind her. Taylor leaned forward in the chair, her elbows resting on her knees.

"No need to be so jumpy, have a seat, I promise this will be a quick conversation, and then I'll be gone in a flash."

Madison sat on the edge of her bed, still wary. Taylor didn't act like this. Still, the clock on the desk behind Taylor said it was a quarter until five. Her mother would be home in the next ten to twenty minutes. She could stall that long.

"And what is this conversation supposed to be about?"

"Why, it's about how much we have in common, our mutual failings, and how we are going to overcome them."

…..

"The fuck?"

Taylor snorted a little, obviously trying to suppress a laugh.

"See! That right there! You present this wholesome image, but I know better. Personal experience and long observation let me know everything I need to know about your story. All of this," here she gestured vaguely at what I was wearing, then around the room, "costume. Artiface. A part you are playing. She may have missed it, but when I think back on the first few weeks of high school, I can see it plain as day. You showed up at Winslow all set to be someone else, but that role was already filled. You know who filled it right?"

Madison swallowed her discomfort. Everything about this conversation was weird, but the discomfort was purely from how right Taylor was so far.

"Emma."

Taylor smiled again.

"Emma. And let's be honest, how would you compete with that? Still, versatile thespian that you are, you found a side part to play, and you played it to the hilt."

Madison looked at the clock again. Five fifty. Her mom would be pulling into the driveway any minute.

"And this is what we have in common? You think you're a fucking actor of some kind? Well congratulations, you nailed the role of speedbump."

Taylor stopped smiling and stood up. Madison had to look up at her. She hated it. Always hated it.

"We have three things in common. You have spent the past two years being a puppet. You could have been anything you wanted, but instead you let Emma and Sophia pull your strings. We have that in common. I was also a puppet. But sometimes, if you get enough distance, you can break the strings. In my case, I decided to go to where the strings couldn't reach me."

"What the fuck are you talking about."

"Next thing we have in common? Bitches holding us back. I know you're smarter than you act like, you just have your priorities out of whack. Me? Too many people worked against me for too long, it convinced me that I wasn't as good as I actually am. But I can fix that."

As she had been talking, Taylor walked closer to Madison. She lifted her right hand and held it up like she was going to slap Madison in the face.

"Come on bitch, try it," Madison thought. She had seen headlights through the window. Her mom had just pulled into the driveway.

"What's the last thing we have in common?"

Taylor smiled that smile again, her hand beginning to blur as it vibrated at incredible speed.

"What the fuck is that?!"

"The last thing we have in common is that tonight we take the first step to making the world into the place it is supposed to be."

With that Taylor plunged her hand into Madison's chest, the smile never leaving her face as fingers moving at supersonic velocities pulped Madison's heart. The sound of the front door closing coincided with the thump left as Madison's lifeless body fell from the bed to the floor. Wiping her hand off on the bed spread, Taylor turned and ran from the room, red lightning arcing behind her as she vibrated through the wall and was gone.

******Authors Note*******

Short interlude to end Ohm. Next up will be the beginning of the next arc. What do we expect? Bakuda Bombing Bonanza to be dealt with. WTF just happened to Madison? What is the PRT and Protectorate reactions to the Flash running off when she did? As always I will answer almost any question about what is going on (spoiler tags are awesome). I switch over to my month of nights on Monday, so expect updates (when they do come) to pop up in the wee hours.


	23. Arc 1

Ride the Lightning

Arc 4.1

Bombs were exploding all around the city. I could hear the sirens, smell the smoke. Every once in awhile the street would shake under my feet. I was filled with a burning need to help, but had no idea what to do. Reluctantly I activated the radio Armsmaster had installed in my mask. Immediately my ear was bombarded with chatter.

Maddeningly slow chatter.

I took off running, heading for Chinatown. As I ran I could hear reports called in, personnel movements ordered. It seemed that the bombing was concentrated in the areas around ABB territory, not in it. Coming up on the edge of the territory I ran right into a SWAT detachment. An armored personnel carrier was positioned three blocks down the road, a collection of armored officers climbing out of the back of it. I came to a stop near them, my hands up.

"Hey guys, anything I can do to help?"

SWAT officers were disciplined guys, they hardly jumped as I appeared in their midst. The Officer in charge, name of Perkins by his nametape, addressed himself to me.

"Flash, yeah you could help. We have heavy fighting going on throughout the 20 block area of Chinatown. Other gangs have been making shows of force, but the explosions are keeping them rebuffed for now."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Right now we have a hell of a lot of shooting going on. If you could disarm the targets ahead of my men, we can get this clamped down in a hurry."

"Sounds good. Any word on bombs within the zone of engagement?"

"Nothing reported at this time."

I nodded.

"Sounds good to me. What channel are you guys on?"

"Tac 2."

I reached up and made an adjustment to my ear piece.

"Ok, I'm listening in. I can't broadcast to you guys, so if I need to communicate something I'll grab the closest officer and relay through them. When do you want me to go?"

The ground shook with another blast, coming from the northeast.

"Now."

I shot off, running up the side of the nearest building and leaping back and forth across the street, taking a moment to get a complete view of the conflict zone.

It was a disaster area.

Groups of ABB gang members clashed on corners, in the streets, through the windows of some of the buildings. There were men shooting at each other from behind cover, people laying in the street bleeding. While many had guns, even more were using more basic weapons. Bats, tire irons, knives, even some swords were currently in play. No obvious Capes though.

I let my momentum carry me to the ground and I began my disarming run. Over the last couple of months I had developed some standard operating procedures for armed engagements. Step one was removing the guns. Run towards a shooter, grab the firearm, run it to a safe location. Normally this would be a central evidence collection point.

Normally I would be looking at no more than ten suspects at a time. There had to be at least sixty people fighting in the streets.

I grabbed the first gun and jacked it open, dumping the bullets out. Spinning in place I timed my effort and released the gun, pausing for a microsecond to watch it rocket in an arc that should carry it over the city and into the Bay.

One down, many to go.

As I worked my way through Chinatown the sounds of the fighting changed around me. Whenever I slowed down enough to hear it, the sounds of gunfire lessened, the yelling louder by its absence. Removing the last firearm I could find, I returned to the SWAT staging position. The men were in a pair of squads, slowly (slooooooooooooooowly) moving towards opposite sides of the street. I came up to the OIC and stopped long enough to shout a message.

"Guns should be out of play, getting ready to go after melee weapons."

I stayed still long enough to see the man process what I had said, then I turned and took off again. My second trip through the conflict zone was much like my first. Identify weapon, remove weapon, dispose of weapon, move on to next weapon. I had just reached the end of the second block when I heard a blast from behind me. I turned and was horrified to see three men from one of the SWAT Squads slowly lifting into the air as an explosion slowly propagated amongst them. A body was slowly crumbling into ash near the epicenter while two identical bodies popped into existence in close succession, one near the rear of the first squad, the other near the front of the second.

Oni Lee had entered the fight.

I raced back down the street, veering to my left until I was running sideways along the facade of the street facing buildings. About twenty yards out I bent my knees and lept, my momentum carrying me to intercept the officers who had been blasted into the air. During that time the first Oni Lee had crumbled down to just his legs, the other two had slowly begun moving their arms towards what I assumed to be grenades. Grabbing the first two SWAT officers I lost some momentum, my arc dropping us towards the street between the two squads. Feet hitting pavement I pressed myself, pulling them back to the armored carrier and throwing them into the back. Turning around I blasted back towards the men. The third officer who had been in blast had risen slightly further into the air, his body armor deforming with the blastwave. I leapt past the shrapnel moving through the air and grabbed the man, turning around and racing him back to the APC and the other two.

I didn't have time to get the rest of the officers. I had to get Oni Lee.

Running back towards the men I grabbed the closest Lee and took off up the side of the building, pulling the assassin with me. Getting to the top I dropped the man face down and leapt across the street, running back down the building on the opposite side. Coming up behind that Lee I took hold of the harness he kept his equipment secured to and repeated my spinning move, releasing him so that he could fly up and onto the roof with his twin. Racing up the side of the building I took a moment to strip all of the equipment from the first Lee before his clone came within range, then repeating my actions. I dropped their combined ordinance down towards the street and placed the doubles next to each other, zip tieing hands and feet.

I came to a stop and waited.

Two sets of eyes blinked as they processed their change in circumstances, then one crumbled into ash. I addressed myself to the remaining Lee.

"What the hell is going on and where is Lung?"

He was quiet for several moments. I stayed on guard in case he tried to teleport away.

"This does not concern you."

I gestured all around me, towards the smoke and the sounds of combat.

"I think it does. People are getting hurt and it has to stop." I leaned in close, trying to put authority into my voice. "Where is Lung?"

At this Oni Lee did about the most unexpected thing he could have done.

He erupted in laughter.

"Lung is no longer a factor. Still, if you will to see for yourself, you will have to find Bakuda."

Frustration brought out a growl in my voice.

"And where is Bakuda?"

"She is…"

Whatever Oni Lee was about to say was lost. As I watched a light flashed behind his eyes. His whole head seemed to be slowly expanding. It took me a moment to realize what was happening. Oni Lee's head was exploding. I ran across the rooftop and down the side of the building. Hitting the street I could see the SWAT team had progressed a couple of blocks down the street during my conversation. I ran in their directions, looking over my shoulder so I could see the slowly rolling explosion of what had been Oni Lee.

Catching up to Officer Perkins, I matched his speed.

"That was you who made my men disappear?"

"Yeah, Oni Lee was suicide bombing you guys."

"Where are my men?"

"I dropped them in the APC. I'm going to extract them to a hospital now and come back."

"Lee?"

I gestured towards the smoking rooftop.

"I don't know if that got him, but his head kind of exploded."

Officer Pekins grunted.

"Couldn't happen to a nicer guy. Get my men to the hospital, we will take it from here. Thanks Flash!"

At least, I assume the last thing Perkins said was thanks. I was already halfway to the APC. I needed to get his guys to the hospital.

After dropping the SWAT guys off at the hospital I stopped to grab a drink. This was all threatening to be too much too fast. While the explosions were dieing down in frequency, the wounded kept coming in. All of the people who were getting hurt, all of the people I could be helping….. All of the people milling around me in the emergency room waiting room, it was too much. I grabbed another bottle of water and ran for the roof.

Sitting on the edge, I opened the bottle of water and took a slow drink, swishing the water around in my mouth and swallowing it. I pulled an energy bar from one of my pouches and tore the wrapper open, taking a bite. I chewed, enjoying the strawberry flavor, the stillness of the moment. I knew I was putting off my inevitable return to the chaos, but I needed this moment.

"What are you doing up here?"

The voice startled me so badly that I almost fell forward off of the roof. I blurred to my feet, turning around so I could see who had surprised me.

"It's you!"

"It's you!"

I was face to face (well not face to face, more like face to fifteen feet away from face) with a short girl in white robes. Panacea was sharing a roof with me.

"You're the Flash, right? What are you doing up here?"

I scraped at the roof with my boot, feeling a bit guilty getting caught slacking off.

"I brought in some Policemen who got caught in an explosion. I needed a break before heading back out."

A knowing look flashed through her eyes.

"Understandable."

The wind blew between us, sirens still sounding in the distance.

"What brings you up here?"

Now it was her tone to look a little guilty.

"Same. My shift would normally be ending now, but with all of this going on, I'm in for the long haul."

"I can imagine."

We stood there, mutual awkwardness filling the space.

"Do you think…"

The radio in my ear crackled.

"This is Armsmaster to all Protectorate affiliates currently operating within Brockton Bay. If you are not currently engaged you are asked to report to 777 Ouachita Street."

Panacea had cocked her head to the side when I cut myself off mid sentence. Pointing to my ear, she nodded in understanding. When Armsmaster's transmission ended, I shrugged my shoulders at the robed Cape.

"Gotta run."

And I was off.

********Authors Note************

And so begins Arc 4 (which my wife insisted I name Arc. Sorry for any confusion). As I said when the Flash was in PRT headquarters, things are accelerating (hahaha). Alot of stuff will be happening pretty quick (damn it why can't I stop?!) until the end of the story. This will translate to some slightly shorter updates (the alternative is doing the rest of Arc as a single mega chapter, but I worry that would kill the momentum).

How much longer is this story? Not as long as you might think. Once it is finished I plan on trying my hand at one or two other projects before coming back and editing the whole thing (which will probably include some rewrites). Until then, on to Arc 4.2!

(Also, did I just kill Oni Lee? Probably not. Just going to put that out there now).


	24. Arc 2

Ride the Lightning

Arc 4.2

777 Ouchita Street turned out to be a closed post office. Coming up on the location I was treated to the site of a Protectorate branded Jeep parked out front. I slowed myself to a walk and entered the building, hearing subdued voices. Lights had been set up in a ring. In the center of the ring was a table with a map of the city spread out on it. Miss Militia, Kid Win, Glory Girl, and Velocity were standing around the table when I walked in.

All conversation stopped as I stepped into the room.

And that was always a good sign.

Miss Militia faced me from across the table.

"Flash. We didn't know if you were going to show up."

"Crisis and all of that. What's going on? Also, the post office?"

Miss Militia shrugged.

"It's necessary. What do you know about Bakuda?"

"Not fucking enough, that's what," Glory Girl mumbled under her breath.

Ignoring her, I answered Miss Militia.

"Not much. Tinker who does bombs. Recent ABB affiliate. Currently bombing the hell out of the city."

"Do you know about the surgeries?"

"The surgeries… oh. That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"I was fighting Oni Lee. His head exploded mid-interrogation."

My voice cracked a little bit when I actually said it out loud.

"Oni Lee is dead," Kid Win asked.

"I hope not. He does that whole teleporting clone thing. I'm hoping that was just a last ditch get out of jail free move."

"Why?" Glory Girl had her eyes fixed on me.

"Why what?"

"Why would you hope that piece of shit assassin was still alive?"

"Because…. no one should have to die. There is always another way."

Miss Militia fixed me with a slightly sad look.

"That's an admirable sentiment. A bit naive, but admirable. To get back on point, yes, the surgeries."

Miss Militia slid an open folder across the table so that it was facing me. I looked down and saw what looked like a PRT personnel file for one Jonathan Park, employed as a night time analyst.

"Shortly after you...left the PRT HQ, we deployed most of the PRT Strike Teams out into the city as well as mobilizing the Wards. Approximately fifteen minutes later, Analyst Park walked into the lobby and passed through the body scanner. He picked up his wallet, entered the elevator, and promptly detonated."

"Oh my god…..was anyone hurt?"

"Mostly minor injuries. Damage to the central elevator. The tinker nature of its mechanisms mean that it will be sometime before it is repaired, hampering personnel movement, including Wards, throughout the facility."

"Fuck. Still, why are we in the post office?"

"Because of this."

Miss Militia gestured to Kid Win, who held out his left arm. Reaching down, he pressed a recessed button on the inner wrist. A panel slid open and a holographic projection began.

It was a woman with large, opaque goggles, wearing some kind of gasmask. She had braided wires slung over her shoulder. When she began to speak, her voice was heavily modulated.

"This message is addressed to the collective members of the PRT and Protectorate. I am Bakuda. By now you have experienced the result of my surgical endeavors, as well as had the chance to investigate some of the more exotic effects my munitions are capable of producing. My message to you is this. This conflict does not concern you. It is internal to the ABB. It will be over shortly, and I shall be the new leader of the gang. From there I will wipe the Empire and the Merchants from this city. You will not interfere in my goals. If you are seen to be interfering, I will have more Mister Parks lose their heads. Sit back, enjoy the time off. This gang is mine, and soon this city will join it."

The hologram faded away.

"She…..emailed you a hologram?"

Kid Win shook his head.

"No. It was the bomb that was in Park. When it went off only half of the force was channeled into a traditional explosion. The rest of the force went into transmuting his body into a weird crystal column. The hologram is stored within the columns crystalline structure, playing in a loop continuously."

"That's horrible!"

Velocity spoke for the first time since I arrived.

"It gets worse."

"How the shit can that get worse?"

"Jonathan Park is still alive."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I said, Mister Park is still alive. Every eleventh cycle, instead of playing this message, the crystal structure instead manifests Park. Mostly he just screams, but every few cycles he asks for help."

The horror of the situation was threatening to overtake me.

"What do we do?"

Velocity spoke again, steel in his voice.

"We end this. Fast."

An hour later and we had a plan hashed out. The ABB was off limits for now. The various heroes would work to keep the Empire, Coil, and the Merchants from taking advantage of the situation. While that was going on, Armsmaster would be working on a way to scan for and deactivate the implanted explosives. When it was ready, Velocity and I would work to tag and extract the victims, hopefully before any of them could be set off. The group began to break up, Miss Militia heading towards the jeep while Kid Win took to the sky on his hoverboard. Glory Girl also flew off, leaving me and Velocity standing behind.

"I'm not really used to being the last one to leave."

The older hero smiled at me.

"Me either. You want to take a run through the city?"

"Sure."

Running with Velocity was weird. I don't know what I was expecting, but I should have known it wouldn't be like running with someone like me. His power, while it had a similar effect, went about executing that effect in a completely different way. While I was just flat out fast, Velocity underwent subtle changes as he sped up. I had read about it, he interacted with the world less. That was the reason his costume was so skin tight, he couldn't actually carry the weight of a costume like mine.

Of course, it didn't hurt that he had the physique to pull off that look.

We ran out of the post office, me letting him take the lead. He lead me south and east, towards the Bay. Getting to the warehouse district we shot through it, heading directly for the water. Hitting the surface, we left dry land behind and turned north, shooting across the water until we hit dry land again. I was beginning to wonder where he was leading me when we turned onto the interstate, heading out of BRockton BAy proper and into the suburbs. Just as I was getting ready to put a hand on his shoulder and stop him, Velocity veered off the road and stopped in front of a roadside diner.

"Join me for a cup of coffee?"

"Sure."

We settled into a booth near the back of the deserted business. Velocity either came here often, or the ancient waitress was just unflappable, because a simple gesture from Velocity and she brought us two mugs and a pot of coffee, then bustled off into the kitchen area. Velocity took his time pouring himself a cup.

Black with two sugars.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he blew gently across the top, then took a sip. Closing his eyes and apparently savoring the flavour, I busied myself with my own cup. While I'm not much of a coffee drinker, with enough creme anything can taste good.

"You know I respect you right?"

"What?"

Velocity set his cup down and looked at me across the table.

"I respect you. When you first showed up, everyone gave me a lot of grief. Our powers are similar. Our costumes have a passing resemblance to each other. You do what I do, but better. Assault was the worst."

"What did he do?"

Velocity chuckled under his breath.

"He had a friend of his take a Velocity action figure and put it in a version of your costume, then stuck it in the display window at the PRT Gift Shop. Paid the clerk to snap a picture of my face when I noticed it."

"I'm sorry."

He took another sip of his coffee.

"No need to be sorry. Back on point, I want you to know I respect you, and I have never been threatened, intimidated, or felt shortchanged by you."

"Why is that?"

Velocity put the cup back down.

"Because you are out there doing the right thing. I even like how you go about doing it. Law enforcement gets a bad rap these days. If you aren't a PRT Officer, you get seen as superfluous. It's like that in the military too. If you aren't a Cape out there fighting Endbringers, no one expects you to do much more than march pretty in parades. But there you are, doing the right things as a hero, and working with the cops. So like I said, I respect you."

I sipped my own coffee flavoured creme while I processed his admission.

"Thank you."

"You need to be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"You are running alone. I get it. If I had your powers instead of mine I probably wouldn't run with a team, less need to support and all of that. But you still need to be careful."

I narrowed my eyes at the hero.

"Is this a recruitment pitch?"

Velocity held up his hands in a placating gesture.

"Nope, not a recruitment pitch. I'm just saying, there are things you don't know. Rules that aren't written down anywhere."

"Oh I know about those."

"You do?"

"I do talk to other heroes. Just saying."

He visibly relaxed a little.

"Oh good. Still, that isn't everything."

"It isn't?"

"Flash, there are those who will try to take advantage of you. Powers you have never encountered, that you have never thought of as being possible. You need to stay on guard, keep your head on a swivel. You have all the time in the world, make sure you use it."

That was...sobering.

"Ok, I promise."

"Good. I need to head back into the city. I have an early morning patrol and you never know when we may get the call about these bombs."

Velocity started walking towards the door.

"Aren't you going to pay?"

He looked back and gave me a wink.

"And where would I keep money in this costume? I have a tab. Coffee's on me by the way."

And with that he was gone. To anyone else I'm sure he disappeared in a red streak. To my eyes he jogged away, becoming more and more insubstantial as he sped up.

The next few days were a rush of activity. All pretense of a civilian life faded away as I became the Flash full time. I checked in with dad a couple of times throughout the day and made a point of passing through the Docks whenever I had the chance. Other than that I patrolled the edges of ABB territory, discouraging other gang members as they tried to insert themselves into the ABB civil war. While the number of bombings had gone down significantly, they were still happening. What's more, certain parts of the city were filling up with exotic effects. On the northern edge of ABB turf there was a fifteen foot area where time was looped. You could see three skinheads react in horror as a weird looking grenade landed in the middle of them. It exploded in a fireball, shredding their bodies, before rewinding to just before the grenade landed.

Rince.

Repeat.

Further to the east there was a floating black sphere that sucked in anything that got too close to it. I had seen Armsmaster examining it a couple of days ago. He reported that it resembled a singularity and that it would evaporate away once it had consumed enough matter. My eyes glazed over a little when he started explaining something called Hawking radiation. There were areas where the temperature dropped to staggeringly lows and other places where anything entering the area of effect phase shifted to either liquid or gas.

What was worse, these effects were not limited to the periphery of the fighting. Here and there around the city were traces of other explosions. Each one marking the place where an implanted bomb was set off, the result of perceived interference by the PRT or Protectorate.

The situation was intolerable.

Seven days later, the call came.

"Flash, this is Armsmaster, we need your help."

"Post Office?"

"Post Office."

I arrived at 777 Ouachita to find it much as I had the first time. This time Armsmaster's motorcycle was parked next to the Jeep. Entering the building I found that the simple map table had been replaced with a collection of computer equipment. Monitors lined the walls and PRT analysts were milling around.

Everything went quiet as I came into view.

Damn it that was annoying.

Looking around I spotted Armsmaster, Velocity, Miss Militia, Glory Girl, Brandish, Kid Win, Aegis, and Shadow Stalker.

"Ok I'm here, what's the plan?"

The plan, as it turned out, was stupid. I hated the plan.

But I was going to do it anyway.

Armsmaster had developed a way to scan for the implanted bombs. It involved a series of high altitude surveillance aircraft keeping station above the city, but it was accurate to within a foot. What's more, the signal which set off the bombs had also been identified. The problem now was one of uncertainty. Would the bombs go off if the signal was blocked? If a bomb carrier was moved outside of the signals range, would the bomb go off?

Given the variety of effects demonstrated so far, we also had no way of knowing how any particular bomb might be disabled without first examining it.

The solution?

Remove the bombs and dispose of them before they had time to do anything.

It was a three part plan. Parts one and two were all about Velocity and myself. Part three would involve the other heroes. Armsmaster had managed to design a nano tracker. Microscopic, they could be carried by Velocity without hindering his power. His job was to visit the coordinates identified by the surveillance planes and tag the people who had implanted bombs. His speed coupled with his limited interaction with the physical world was hoped to prevent anything being set off prematurely. Once they were all tagged, a route would be calculated which I would then follow.

This was the part I hated.

I was to follow this route, as quickly as I could, through the city. As I passed each tagged individual, as indicated by a HUD read out in the goggle overlay Armsmaster had just provided me, I was supposed to REACH INTO THEIR HEADS AND GRAB THE BOMBS! Then run them out of the city to a designated blast zone.

The idea was that I could get the bombs out of their heads without damaging the victims, get the bombs out of the city, and then get away in case they went off.

And do it all before Bakuda realized anything was happening.

At that point the collected heroes would begin a major offensive to put down the remaining fighting. If they hadn't already been triggered, this would cause Bakuda to try and set off the bombs. With all of them located in one location, the idea was that the detonation signal would be easier to trace back to a single location, using the same method that was used to locate the bombs in the first place.

Which is why I found myself in the post office, breathing deeply with my eyes closed, while Velocity began his tagging run.

Two minutes later it was over. Velocity was back in the post office, a little winded, but satisfied.

"There were so many of them."

"How many?"

"I tagged 72 individuals spaced throughout the entire city."

I let out a slow breath.

"Fuck."

"Quiet," Armsmaster barked from his console, "I'm calculating your route now. Remember, when you start, we estimate you have no more than 120 seconds to complete your task. Taking into account Bakuda's projected reaction time, any longer and the explosives may be set off prematurely."

"I got it. Run fast, don't scramble anyone's brains, try not to blow up."

"Route is ready, uploading it to your hub now. Ready when you are."

I took a moment and looked around the room at the gathered heroes. Some of them were government capes, others independant. All of us here to try and do our best for the city and the people in it.

I couldn't be in better company.

I pulled up the route and gave it a look over. It was….a lot of distance to cover in very little time.

"I'm ready."

Armsmaster walked over, the faint sound of servos actuating in his armor. Stopping next to me, he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you Flash."

And with that I was gone.

I sped through the city, golden lighting arcing all over my body, colors shifting around me like they had weeks ago in the park when I found myself racing bullets. I concentrated on that feeling of pressure that I felt when I vibrated through matter. I didn't go around or over buildings...I went through them.

Coming up to the first tag in my hud I reached my hand out and, as I passed, slipped it through the skull of a five year old girl sitting on her couch watching cartoons. Coming out the other side of the skull, my hand had a tiny metal disc. It felt faintly warm to the touch. Dropping it into the containment box Kid Win had given me, I adjusted my trajectory, and pushed on.

One down, 71 to go.

**********Authors Note***********

Hopefully this doesn't count as a cliffhanger. I really an trying not to do those. The story progresses. There may be one more update tonight, if not then expect it sometime this weekend.


	25. Arc 3

Ride the Lightning

Arc 4.3

I ran for hours.

I ran for minutes.

I ran for seconds.

I ran in the space between seconds. My speed lets me appreciate how relative our perception of the world around us truly is. When I go fast, everything else goes slow. One might think this would be an issue for me, that having to perceive the world in such a slowed state would result in a corresponding stretching of my perception of time. A person having such a thought would only be partially right. When I am forced to interact with aspects of the world which my speed can't influence, like a computer, I do indeed feel the seconds crawl by. For the most part though, my perceptions scale with my speed.

For the most part.

At the moment, I was keenly aware of every second ticking by and of the immense gulf between them. Since I began my run I had pulled seventy one of Bakuda's implanted bombs. The range of targets painted a disheartening view of the mad tinker. They ranged in age from a girl of five to an elderly man in the Brookside Hospice. Many of the victims were of the homeless variety, scattered in slums and alleys throughout the city. Even though the schools were closed, I knew for a fact that some of the bombs I had retrieved came from faculty.

"Flash you need to leave the city now!" The voice was female with an odd accent and some kind of modulation. Even stranger, I was able to understand it while moving at speed. I keyed up my radio.

"Who is this, and why?"

"This is Dragon. I'll explain more later, but you need to get to the drop point now. In the last four seconds I've detected two transmissions would could detonate the bombs. I managed to block both of them, but we have no guarantee that I will continue to be able to do so."

Fuck.

"Copy, heading out now."

I turned towards the West and ran, doing math in my head as I went. Two detonations. Seventy one total bombs identified. Sixty eight retrieved and in my possession. One bomb left.

"Dragon I'm one bombs short. Where is the last one?"

"You don't have time…"

"And I have even less now, where is it?"

"West 23rd and Altizan."

Speeding down the road, I gave silent thanks that the week of intense gang fighting meant that the streets were relatively deserted. Twelve blocks down and five over had me coming up on a man dressed in yuppie casual. Khaki pants, a blue sweater vest over a white collared shirt with a black tie. The overlay on my HUD showed a blue aura around the man, definitely my target.

Coming up next to the man I took a relative moment to collect myself, to shift my focus inward. A week's worth of practice with this ability still didn't seem like enough. When Kid Win had first suggested my phasing might be helpful I had scoffed. In the next minute we would know for sure how it turned out. Turning my attention inward, I focussed on the lightening, the pure pulsing speed that thrummed through my veins. A million pins and needles walked over my skin as my hand became slightly indistinct. Reaching forward, I pushed past that slight bit of pressure that indicated I had penetrated something that should have been solid. The trick here was to pay attention to differences. Everything in the universe vibrates. As near as we can tell, my ability to phase through matter is a side effect of me matching my own vibrations with those specific to a physical structure, and then offsetting the vibration just enough that all of the bits of "me" pass between all of the bits of "it".

Easy right?

The hard part was next. The bomb inside of the skull, a small disk about the size of a penny, didn't belong there. It had a different fundamental resonance from the surrounding person. Sliding my hand through the empty space within the man's head, I was able to note the renewed feeling of pressure that meant I had reached the bomb. Wrapping my hand around it, I allowed the vibrations to propagate into the bomb. When the pressure vanished, a feeling somewhat like but not really like the popping of a soap bubble, I closed by hand and accelerated. In the blink of an eye the man was half a mile behind me and vanishing further into the distance as I headed out of the city and towards the drop zone.

"Flash to Dragon, don't know if you are still monitoring this frequency, but I have the last bomb. I should be at the drop zone any moment now."

There was a burst of static, then a series of breaks in the static.

... .. -. -. .-.. . / -. - - / - ... .-. - ..- -. ... -..- / -.. . - - -. .- - .. - -. / .. - - .. -. . -. - -..- / ... - .-. .-. -.-

Was that morse code?

Fuck.

I pushed myself harder, thinking fast. I knew morse code, it had been covered in Explorers during the orientation to the radios. I reached back with my mind, my running becoming something akin to a zen exercise as I focussed on the past. Dots, dashes and spaces. Short burst of static, long burst of static, dead air. Repeating.

[SINGLE GOT THROUGH]

[DETONATION IMMINENT]

[SORRY]

Panicking I opened my hand and looked at the bomb in my palm. Seventy two of seventy two, the rest of which were in the (theoretically) signal proof case on my utility belt. As I watched, the small disc doubled in size.

Fuck.

Explosions are fucking fast.

I was more than fifty miles outside of Brockton Bay. Twenty more miles down the road there was an abandoned quarry which had been designated the drop off point for this payload. I wasn't going to make it there. Up ahead was a cut off. I took it.

Leaving hardtop roads behind me, I shot down a dirt and gravel road, leaving a plume of debris in my wake. To the best of my knowledge the place I was heading had been closed for the last two seasons. Even if it were to be opened this year, no one should be there for another couple of months. The bomb in my hand had doubled again. It was becoming more difficult to run with it, some kind of field was trying to flicker into existence around the disc. I could feel the field messing with the space around it. I had to start zigzagging, leaving distorted areas of space behind me. Finally I passed the sign.

 **WELCOME TO KEYSTONE LAKE NATURE CAMP**

I haven't been here in years. When I was here…. I hadn't been in a good place. I had been getting better, but the numbness of mom's passing…..it was still fresh. Now I blew past the cabins, through the arts and crafts areas, and down to the lake itself. I blasted over the pier, my feet leaving the wood behind and coming into contact with the water. Arcing out to the right, I began a wide circle. Taking the pouch of bombs, I threw it and the currently detonating one, up towards what would be the center of my path.

Once, twice, ten times, fifty, a hundred. Round and round I ran, churning the water under my feet, a vortex forming and the waters of the lake were forced into a whirlpool. The bomb above me continued expanding as I sunk lower, clearing an open area in the middle of the lake, walls of water rising around me until I was running at the bottom of the lake. I sprinted to the middle of the circular mud patch and began spinning like a top, sinking down into the muck. Fifty or so feet later I looked up and saw that I was out of time. The spacial bomb had expanded to an almost unmanageable size. Worse, at least some of the explosives in the case had to be going off. It was the only reason I could think of the the case to be partially glass, partially magma, while also occupying four different places at the same time.

I reversed direction and sprang out of the hole. Grabbing a broken oar from the bottom of the lake, I run up the slowly collapsing column of water and sprang across the open middle, repeating my bullet trick with currently exploding, tinker made explosives.

Mental note, hug dad when this is over.

I made as much contact with the ordinance as I could, rocketing it down into the hole at the bottom of the lake. I then shot back across the water towards the shore. As I ran I noticed a strange leeching effect. All of the colors in front of me were bleaching out, becoming more wan. I headed towards the outcropping of rocks where end of camp group pictures were taken and ducked behind them, coming to a stop as I ducked my head between my knees and covered my ears. Time resumed it's normal progression.

There was a rushing sound, followed by a roar and a strange note, like the ringing of a bell, only not heard by my ears. Instead I felt it in my bones.

Then quiet.

Poking my head out from behind the rocks I was greeted by a horrible image of mind numbing beauty.

The center of the lake was a roiling mass, with water falling up and into a black abyss before shooting out as azure crystals which caught fire shortly after leaving the darkness. The flames reached down instead of up, the smoke moving independent of the wind before making a screaming noise upon contact with the surface of the lake. Fortunately none of the effects looked like they were reaching the shore on either side of the lake.

Still, I would probably be getting a talking too from someone about this. Reaching up I tapped my radio.

"Flash to anyone monitoring this channel, bombs safely detonated."

Nothing. No response, no static, no beep. I pulled up my sleeve and checked my watch. A blank display looked back at me.

EMP.

Looking towards the center of the lake again, I allowed myself to dwell on the horrible implications within the astounding effects. Bakuda was going to, in miniature, do this to over seventy people. I rocketed away from the camp, back to the roads which would lead me into the city again.

Bakada was going to be stopped.

And I was going to stop her.

*********Authors Note*********

Happy imminent Turkey Day! Have a chapter! Not too long, have to leave room for stuffing. I should have a longer offering not this weekend (I am working this weekend), but next weekend. I won't rule out a chapter or two before then (I'm on my month of nights, so writing can help fill the time during my nights off). As always, feedback is appreciated. Also…

So I tried doing the beta thing and it didn't work out (mostly my fault, what with my weird schedule and inability to wait instead of posting as soon as I finished something). As I look towards the end of this story, I am toying with the idea of seeing if anyone is interested in doing a start to finish pass of it (for spelling, grammar, etc). I do have a couple of story ideas for when this is finished. After those I will probably come back to iron out some things here I am less than happy with (I don't want to change them now, as it would result in throwing off the forward progress).


	26. Arc 4

Ride the Lightning

Arc 4.4

Racing back towards Brockton Bay I kept the speed on. It meant that I was out of contact, but it also meant that I would get back early in the offensive. Given what I had just seen, I needed to be there to help out. Tearing down the interstate, I could see the downtown skyscrapers in the distance.

They were wreathed in smoke.

If events were moving according to plan, the all clear signal from me should have triggered simultaneous moves on all active hotspots of conflict. A joint task force made up of PRT Troopers, SWAT Officers, Protectorate Heroes and Independants. The PRT and SWAT assets would be targeting the non-cape gang members, breaking up fights and detaining everyone they could. The Capes would be helping out where they were needed, but had a different series of main objectives.

Find and detain Bakuda.

Find and detain Oni Lee.

Find Lung and determine what his place in all of this was.

Don't allow the Merchants or the Empire to capitalize on the chaos.

Entering the city, I made my way to the command post at the old Post Office. Coming to a stop in main room, I bent forward at the waist, trying to get my breathing under control. Armsmaster was the first to react to my appearance.

"Flash, you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I've just never gone that fast before. What's happening?"

The Protectorate leader walked over to the central table, gesturing to the map laid out on its surface.

"When the all clear came, everyone moved out. We have ten strike teams working throughout ABB territory right now. So far they are no reported problems. Minimum hero backup needed. However….."

We spoke at the same time.

"Bakuda."

I followed Armsmaster over to a display screen which had been set up along the old marble counter. As we approached, the previously displayed image dissolved, leaving me looking at a digital avatar, female in nature.

"Dragon?"

The image on the screen smiled, the eyes literally twinkling.

"One and the same Flash. I'm glad that you received my message."

The message…

"Thank you for sending it. I think I want to talk to you about it later if we could?"

"Sure."

Armsmaster spoke up again.

"Dragon, can you tell the Flash what you were just telling me about Bakuda?"

"Ah yes, of course. As you know Flash, I have spent a good part of the last week collaborating with Armsmaster trying to discern Bakuda's location. While several captured ABB members were willing to talk upon capture, we were never able to get closer than already abandoned hideouts. In several cases rigged explosives were only narrowly identified and disarmed by Protectorate heroes before the worst could happen. Still, useful information was obtained."

Dragon's avatar disappeared from the screen, replaced with a satellite view of Brockton Bay. Overlaying the view were a series of overlapping concentric circles, spreading out from dozens of points around the city. Something about the layout was familiar.

"What am I looking at?"

The monitor switched into a split screen mode, the map moving to the left hand side, Dragon reappearing on the right.

"What you are seeing are Brockton General Electric substations. I was able to identify a series of power surges that corresponded to known detonations. With the telemetry gained during the detonation of all of the implanted bombs, I believe I've figured out how she's been doing it."

"With the electrical lines?"

"Yes, with the electrical lines. Power lines normally have low frequency electromagnetic fields around them. As near as I can tell, Bakuda has managed to tune her explosives into those frequencies. When she sends the signal for one to detonate," here the map zoomed in on one of the substations, which began pulsing, "the signal is picked up at a substation, causing a pulse to propagate throughout the city, until it is picked up by the target device."

I felt a light bulb go off above my head.

"So we were never able to find her because she wasn't transmitting in the open!"

Dragon smiled grimly.

"Exactly right. She is using extremely short range transmissions, which only have to reach an electrical substation."

Armsmaster snapped his fingers in front of my face. I didn't realize it, but I was so excited that I had begun to vibrate a little.

"Slow down there. This is where you came in. Dragon, do we know how many of these substations Bakuda has actually transmitted from?"

The map expanded again to fill the entire screen. Five substations began to glow blue. Of those five, three began to blink. Dragon spoke.

"I have confirmed detonation pulses from these locations. Of them, the highest concentration of pulses have come from these three."

Armsmaster stood unmoving, looking at the image.

"Dragon, please highlight surrounding buildings with basements filed in city records." Buildings all around the locations lit up yellow.

"Now overlay steam tunnels and storm drain lines." More lines appeared on the map.

"Cell towers."

More data points.

"Location of fights between ABB factions over the last week."

A series of red splotches resolved into view. Armsmaster continued to stare at the screen. Other than intermittent chatter coming through the radios and the PRT and Police personnel manning them, the room was quiet. After a seeming eternity, Armmaster walked up the the screen and placed his finger on it, drawing a precise circle.

"There is a greater than 99% likelihood that Bakuda is holded up within this area.

Well I was lost.

"How do you figure that?"

A ghost of a smile briefly appearing, Armsmaster tapped his helmet with his right index finger.

"Predictive software, coupled with a logic engine and the ability to do meta analysis."

I shrugged at the man.

"Tinker stuff?"

He shrugged back.

"Tinker stuff."

I left the post office, my hud leading me to each of the responding heroes in turn. Armsmaster didn't want to risk Bakuda figuring out how to listen into our radio chatter, so we were going old school. I entered ABB territory, coming up on a group of gangbangers encased in containment foam. Assault was talking to the PRT officers who were standing near by.

"Hey there Flasher, how goes it?"

"Ha,ha. I have word from Armsmaster, we are going to canvess this area. Get there in twenty minutes, nothing goes out over the radio."

I handed Assault a printout showing the suspected area. As he took the map from me, the older hero locked his eyes on mine.

"Not that I don't trust you, but…"

Crap, I forgot.

"The word of the day is argile."

Assault smiled and nodded.

"Consider the word spread."

And I was off.

The sun had finished setting by the time Armsmaster was ready to move out. The dark clouds filling the sky flashed with lightning, the smell of rain in the air. I stood at the north end of the search area, Kid Win at my side. To the south was Armsmaster and Velocity. To the west was Assault and Glory Girl. On the east side, Battery and Aegis. The teams were assembled with the idea that each would have someone who could search rapidly, as well as someone who could either disarm or, hopefully survive, an errant blast. The rest of the Wards were joined by New Wave encircling the area. If anyone tried to flee, this net should catch them. The remainder of the Protectorate were being held in reserve in case last minute support was needed elsewhere in the city. As the first drops of rain began to spatter against the street, my radio crackled to life.

"This is Armsmaster. The time is 1900 hours, begin your searches now."

"You ready?"

I looked over to Kid Win. Considering what had happened at the PRT headquarters, what we were now facing….he kept his composure really well. I gave him a single nod.

"Let's do this."

Returning my nod, Kid Win stepped onto his board. With a low level humming sound, he rocketed into the air. I gave him a few moments to gain altitude. He would be attempting to hold station above my location as I went through my search. If I needed help, I had a panic button in one of my pockets. One press and Kid Win would come charging in. Two presses and all of the search teams would come running. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath…..then was off.

I shot down the street, using a grid pattern. Into a building, checking it room by room. It was both fast and slow. Fast in that I moved faster than the eye could follow. Slow in that I checked over every door frame for trip lines, was looking for pressure plates, trying to spot false walls and floors. The buildings in this part of town were run down, but not derelict. Occupancy rates were low, so there were quite a few buildings with more empty rooms than full ones, plenty of places for a mad tinker to set up shop. This part of Brockton Bay was the heart of the old Chinatown, as it existed before the massive flood of immigrants following Leviathan's attack on Japan. The people who still lived here were older, poor. Fixed incomes coupled with pervasive urban blight meant this was all they could afford.

I was on my tenth building when I first felt it. Running down the central hallway on the ground floor of the apartment complex, there was…...a drag. It would be difficult to describe to someone who wasn't a speedster, who didn't have the lightning running through them like I did. The vibrations felt off in one spot, like the motion was being sucked out of the air before rushing back into it. Checking my map, I saw that this one one of the buildings with a basement.

"Flash to Kid Win, how far are you from my position?"

A burst of static through the radio as the sky lit up with lightning.

"No more than three minutes out. You find something?"

"Maybe. I'm checking it out. Head this way, I'll hit the button if things go bad."

"Copy."

I checked each of the rooms on the ground level. Under a staircase towards the end of the hall I found the door.

It was grimey, covered in the same graffiti that decorated the rest of the building. The floor in front of it was swept clean though. This door had been opened recently. Checking over the door I didn't see anything obviously alarming. Still…..better to wait for Kid Win. A couple of agonizing minutes later I heard the low hum of his board and knew the tinker was making his way towards me.

"What did you find?"

I jogged back down the hall, meeting him right near the area that felt off. Pointing at the floor I did my best to explain.

"This spot right here feels…. Off."

"Off?"

"Off. Like it's moving out of synch with everything around it."

"Huh."

Kid Win pulled something off of his belt and held it low over the spot. A screen lit up and a clicking sound could be heard in the hallway. What little I could see of his face carried a look of intense concentration. After a minute of this the Ward stood up straight and pocketed the device.

"Yep."

"Yep what?"

"Definitely off."

I slowly clapped my hands together.

"Truly I am amazed and astounded by the depth of expertise on display, oh Ward of the Protectorate."

Kid Win chuckled a little, then sheepishly shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you expect? Exotic energy phenomena aren't my specialty. I can say that something happened here. The readings are all kinds of anomalous. You find anything else?"

My turn to nod. Turning, I walked back towards the door.

"Someone has been through here recently. As near as I can tell, this is the basement access. It might help to take a look under the "off" place. I was about to go through the door when I decided to wait for you."

"Good call, it might be rigged from the other side."

Kid Win pulled the scanning device back off his belt and ran it over the door. More of the same noises came from the tinny little speakers.

"Well I don't think the door is rigged. Definitely more of the "offness" coming from downstairs, but we should be safe to take a look."

I went to grab the knob when Kid Win grabbed for my wrist. Indulgently I let him.

"What?"

"If someone is down there, opening the door might tip them off."

"Hmmmmmmm. Good point. Do you get motion sick?"

Kid Win shot me a look of confusion.

"Motion sick, why would…."

The rest of hs sentence was lost as I grabbed him and accelerated our bodies to just the right frequency to pass through the door. I let go of the Ward on the other side of the door…..and watched as he immediately doubled over and silently wretched. Standing up straight the tinker gave me a look that should have been able to melt steel. I returned it with a smile and a thumbs up before rushing down the stairs. What I saw at the foot stopped me cold.

The basement had obviously been set up as a safehouse. There was a ratty bed, a table with a couple of chairs, a tv and tv stand, and a recliner. Lung was seated on the recliner watching the tv. When I got to the bottom of the stairs he turned his head to face me.

"Ummmmmmm hi Lung?"

A look of unbridled rage erupted over his face. Lung erupted from the chair, flame wreathing him as he visibly grew in size. He took three quick steps in my direction…..as a silver canister appeared from thin air and arced towards him. The canister broke apart in a slow flash of light...and Lung began to run backwards, shrinking as he went, flames flowing back into him. Finally he was again seated in the chair, watching television.

A moment later the cycle repeated itself.

"Well that explains what happened to Lung."

"FUCK!"

Kid Win's matter of fact declaration scared the shit out of me. I jumped, losing my footing as I landed. I started to fall forward but was saved when Kid Win grabbed the back of my jacket and hauled me towards him.

"Watch out, I don't know what will happen if you hit the field."

"Field?"

The Ward pointed at the ground in front of me and sure enough, there was a clearly visible line where the area of effect began. Dust floating in the air one way, before rewinding and going the other way. If I let my eyes lose focus just a bit I could trace it up to where it connected with the ceiling. I pointed at it.

"That must be why it felt wrong up in the hallway. We were right above where the field ends."

Kid Win nodded.

"Bakuda must have surprised him."

"Yeah."

I headed upstairs as Kid Win called this in to Armsmaster. I know that Lung was a villain, an overall bad guy. Still, I couldn't help but hope there was a way to get him out.

Returning to the street, we continued our search of the area. One by one we eliminated buildings in the northern area. I was on my last run through when the panic fob in my pocket went off.

And went off again.

They had found her.

Armsmaster's voice came over my earpiece.

"Subject located, southern area."

I looked up at Kid Win to make sure he had received the message. Shooting me a thumbs up, the flying tinker rocketed ahead. I quickly passed him. I ran to the point indicated on my HUD and found Armsmaster and Velocity. A few moments later and we were joined by the rest of the search teams. Glory Girl, Battery, Assault, Kid Win, and Aegis. We were all standing in front of a boarded up Korean Grocery. The leader of the Wards spoke up first.

"What do we have boss?"

"We know that Bakuda is within the building. Unfortunately, she knows we're here."

I felt a wave of awe wash over me. Glory Girl had taken to floating several feet in the air.

"So what if the mad bomber bitch knows we're here. She's trapped, let's take her out!"

Armsmaster grimaced.

"We didn't find her."

Kid Win spoke up from his board.

"What do you mean we didn't find her?"

"She called us here. Bakuda apparently tried to detonate several hidden bombs since we began or search. When they didn't go off, she figured out that we had discovered her method of detonation. It seems that she has decided on a last stand."

Assault nodded grimly.

"Going out with a bang huh?"

SMACK!

Battery slapped Assault across the back of the head.

"Not the time."

I could have sworn I heard a whispered "worth it" from the older Cape.

I decided to speak up.

"So do we know what she is planning?"

"We do not. What we do have though is a plan to capitalize on our resources."

"What resources are those?"

Armsmaster fixed me with a look.

"Really? Not that I have a problem stepping up, but I am not the only hero here."

Ignoring my snark, Armsmaster held out a glove.

"This is something I have been working on for Velocity. The glove is designed to transport a powerful sedative woven into the nano-mesh of the palm. Contact against the bare skin will render most low tier Brutes unconscious within seconds. In non-brutes, the effect is nigh instantaneous."

"Impressive. Why give it to me?"

"It's not ready for Velocity yet. Still too heavy. You can get into the building and make contact with Bakuda without having to worry about any traps she might have, taking her out of the fight before she even knows you were there."

That wasn't a bad plan. Still…

"Do we know what she has in there?"

"Honestly? No. Bakuda was less than cogent in her last communication. Whatever it is, she has apparently been working on it exclusively for the last week, so there is no telling what it may do."

Shit.

I reached for the glove.

"Will this fit over my regular glove?"

"Yes."

"Anything special involved in deploying it?"

"No, simply touch the target on bare skin. Depending on her physiology this will keep her out for anywhere from thirty six to forty eight hours"

As a seeming afterthought.

"Don't scratch your nose with your right hand while you have this on."

"Doesn't that seem a little excessive?"

"Prototype."

I slid the glove on over my own. Giving the collected heroes a nod, I walked towards the building.

"Basement?"

"Basement."

I sprinted forward, gathering speed as I descended the stairs, already speeding up my molecules for when I needed to pass through the door. Said door came up quickly, and I experienced that feeling of pressure as I slid myself through all of the empty places within the door. Faster than I could blink I was in a room. The walls were covered in machinery, wires stretching across the ceiling, arcs of electricity moving between parts. In the middle of the room I saw her.

Bakuda.

She looked much the same as she had in the hologram I had seen of her, gasmask and coils of wire wrapped around a thin woman with long black hair. I crossed the room and stretched out my hand, allowing it to come back into phase with the world around me so that I could make contact with her. I reached for an exposed bit of skin on her neck, between the bottom of her mask and where one of the coils of wire had pulled her shirt aside. My hand made contact.

And the world broke.

 **Kid Win**

Kid Win stood upon his hoverboard, floating about ten feet off the ground. The Flash had just finished talking to Armsmaster and was now pulling on the glove. Any second now Brockton Bay's newest hero would put Bakuda down hard, and then….. well then the work would start. The ABB was in tatters. With Bakuda gone, Lung effectively gone (and how horrifying was his condition?), the ABB's Cape roster was reduced to Oni Lee, assuming that he had survived having his head exploded in front of the Flash.

It's kind of funny. He always expected the inevitable gang war to be between the ABB and Empire. Now they were all looking at a landscape where it would be Empire vs Merchants. If he was being honest, what it really meant was it would be heroes vs nazi's, with some Merchant annoyance along the fringes. Still, that sounded winable.

The Flash finished adjusting the glove. She turned to give each of the heroes a final look and nod, then she sped out of sight. A second later the building in front of them imploded.

It ripped itself up from the street, all of the walls collapsing in on themselves towards a central point. A great rushing of wind pulled him briefly towards the implosion before it stopped. The was a half second of unnatural silence before everything rushed outward. Kid Win flew backwards only to be caught by Glory Girl, who was visibly exerting herself to maintain her position. Velocity, Battery, and Aegis were tumbling down the street. Armsmaster had sunk his halberd into the street and was leaning against it, rock solid. Some kind of magnetic grapple maybe? When the wind stopped Glory Girl released him and they both went in for a landing, touching down next to Armsmaster. Glory Girl pointed at the solid black orb which hung in mid air where the building had once been.

"What the fuck is that?"

Armsmaster turned to face the two of them.

"I don't know."

 **Flash**

As soon as I touched Bakuda I knew something was wrong. The vibrations were wrong. There was some kind of field which extended around her body. Going solid meant I had broken it. All of the machine around me exploded at once. Exotic effects began warping the room, twisting geometry in ways that made no sense. I grabbed Bakuda and made for the stairs, only to find them in the process of melting while twisting in nine right angles.

SHIT!

Ok, I could get out of here. There was still space open in the middle of the room. Holding Bakuda tightly, I began to run in circles. Unlike at during the fire, I wasn't trying to create a vacuum. This was all about speed. I accelerated the two of us beyond anything I had ever done before. The faster I went, the less I had to interact with the world around me. If I could go fast enough, maybe I could co-exist with whatever this explosion was and still manage to ignore the effects of it. All around me a swirling blackness began to take root. Whatever energies the blast had released, they were coalescing towards their final effect. I had less room to run in, forcing me into tighter and tighter circles. Finally I was spinning in place, watching the ultrablack effect press in closer. Taking a deep breathing I closed my eyes and accelerated.

 _I love you dad._

I spun in place forever.

I spun in place for a moment that was not a moment.

Opening my eyes I could perceive a weird curvature. Space existed around me, it had to, otherwise I would have been nowhere. Gripping Bakuda tight, I decided to use my continued existence to get out of here.

Wherever here was.

I picked a direction and ran, keeping my vibrations up, feeling pressure build and disperse, as if I were passing through innumerable objects. Finally there was a resistance I couldn't ignore. It was like running into a sheet of rubber. I don't know why, but something told me that safety lay just beyond this barrier. I dug deep, reaching for my last reserves. My vision went gold in the blackness as I pushed, pushed, and BREACHED the barrier.

Bakuda and I barreled down and empty street, covering a good fifty blocks before I managed to come to a stop.

I looked around, panting. It was still raining, I was still in Brockton Bay. I quickly stripped Bakuda down to her skivies, then ran her back to where we had staged in front of the grocery.

Only, the grocery wasn't there. Instead a black orb hung in the air, rain disappearing into it's top and not emerging from the bottom. There was no sign of any of the heroes who had been waiting. I reached up and keyed up my mic.

"Flash to Armsmaster, I have Bakuda in custody, where can I drop her?"

Nothing but static.

Tired, feeling fatigue in a way I hadn't really felt it since I became the Flash, I hauled Bakuda towards the PRT headquarters. Except there was a problem with that.

There was no PRT headquarters. In it's place was a movie theater. Looking down at Bakuda, I whispered, "Where the fuck are we."

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

Startled I turned around. Behind me was a police car, two uniformed officer's having exited the vehicle.

"LET THE WOMAN GO!"

"Don't worry, I disarmed her."

Guns were pointed at me.

"Last warning, let the woman go and get down on the ground now!"

This…...I couldn't deal with this. I dashed towards the police car, depositing Bakuda in the back seat. No PRT building, no idea where to put her. Armsmaster's drug should keep her out long enough for me to figure things out, until then, let the police hold her.

I needed to get my head on straight.

So I headed home.

Getting to the house I was relieved to see dad's car in the driveway. A quick circuit around the house showed that no one was around who could see, so I ran up to the front door. Sliding my key in, I was about to turn the knob when I felt the door pull open from the inside.

It wasn't like looking in a mirror. I have too much of my dad in me. Still, there are details that match. My hair is long, dark and curly. The shape of the lips, and the color of the eyes. Standing in the door of the house, my mother was looking at me, surprise etched across her face.

"Who are you?"

Stunned, I pulled my mask off.

"Mom it's me, Taylor."

"Who?"

*********Authors Note***********

Ok, moving much closer to the end game with this chapter. I know that alot of people may not like this development (and that is fine, people are allowed to like what they want to, this is AMERICA DANG IT!)

One thing I do want to address. It will come up in the story, but I feel like if I put it here, it may be beneficial, so spoiler text ahoy!

SERIOUSLY SPOILERS BELOW HERE!

"But CoffeeGuru," you might be tempted to say, "the Entities closed off realities that were similar and such." AND YOU WOULD BE RIGHT. The Entities (at least so far as this story is concerned), closed off realities that were really similar to the ones they intended to spread shards through, in order to avoid duplicating data. Pretty much, they did not want a situation where Taylor had 50 different powers, because they felt they could only learn so much from Taylor (or any other individual), so they sealed off pretty similar realities. The multiverse though, is infinite. So just because shards can't access every possible reality, doesn't mean that _something else_ can't. Taylor being WHERE she is now, and GETTING BACK to where she started, will precipitate my endgame. I would love it if people stayed on for the rest of the ride, but understand if I lose some.


	27. Arc Interlude

Ride the Lightning

Arc 4 Interlude

In it's natural state the world was barren. Billions of years ago a large body, ejected from the asteroid belt, had collided with the surface. The ensuing conflagration had sterilized the planet, burning off most of the atmosphere in the process. What remained was a landscape marred by numerous impacts, rife with geological activity.

Stretched across the surface of this dead world is a creature, it's strange biology as far away from terrestrial evolution as one could get. Fractal geometries and intricate lattice works of energy and potential made up it's immense flesh, it's body covering most of the surface of the world. The body itself was dark, optimized in order to absorb as much ambient radiation as possible. Tendrils extended deep into geothermal vents, while the mass itself flowed around the planet, ensuring that sunlight was always upon its bulk. The creature was alone in the solar system, and barely worth notice to the naked eye.

But if you look further, beyond the physical….then things become interesting again. See the planet doubled, tripled, multiplied, layered over itself again and again. See the various might have beens and also was's, the superposition of this rocky body, third from it's sun…..and see gossamer threads extending from the creature towards these other-here's. Many of the lines are solitary….a single point of connection between the creature and an entire world. In some places there are clusters. On one world the connections are so numerous as to be blinding. Here the creature is connected to a sizable part of the population. Yet there is more.

On one world, the creature has extended to bulk of its focus. A golden shadow, a small fraction of the creature, but still the vehicle through which it observes and reflects. This world is special. It was chosen. Of all the myriad possibilities, this was the one deemed most likely to provide useful data, to help progress the plan. The creature remembers when the world was chosen, on amongst a multitude. Steps were taken to preserve the integrity of the cycle. The world was isolated from those so near to it as to confuse the data. Wall erected.

The creature lays on its dead and barren world and lacks to motivation. It conserves its energy, but it isn't sure why. The cycle is broken. Without its counterpart, the data collected will not be of much use. Even now it resignedly counts down the time until the energy needed to power the shards will be exhausted. At that moment, the creature will have to decide whether it will attempt to harvest and flee this world, these worlds, or if it will simply end.

Out of habit the creature pings the shards. As things stand now, they should have, as an aggregate, a little over 300 solar revolutions of energy left.

[Query/Data Outside of Expected Norms]

Two shards were misplaced. They were not within the designated multi-spatial boundaries of this cycle.

Still pondering how this could have come to be, more information was received and processed.

One of the misplaced shards, responsible to organization and administration, was damaged. Yet, despite the damage, it was reporting energy reserves on the order of millennia…..and growing.

The creature could not recall having ever encounted a situation like this. Could this be the solution to the ultimate problem? It must consult with the Thinker…..

It could not.

What could it do?

On the world known as Earth Bet, the hero known as Scion was floating off the coast of Los Angeles. He was close enough to the shore that tourists were taking pictures. From her office in the Protectorate HQ, Alexandria had her eyes fixed on the golden man.

And so she was watching as he disappeared.

*********Authors Note***********

I am still working on the re-write, but I had a really shitty night at work last night. We had a line of duty death and….. I felt like I needed to write. I will probably be posting short updates to this and other stories for the next few days.


	28. Frequency 1

Ride the Lightning

Frequency 5.1

It wasn't like looking in a mirror. I have too much of my dad in me. Still, there are details that match. My hair is long, dark and curly. The shape of the lips, and the color of the eyes. Standing in the door of the house, my mother was looking at me, surprise etched across her face.

"Who are you?"

Stunned, I pulled my mask off.

"Mom it's me, Taylor."

"Who?"

Presented with what was, from all appearances, my dead mother, stopped me dead in my tracks. Going still, my thoughts accelerated. No PRT building, little differences in building facades as I ran here, the step on the porch wasn't loose when I walked over it. The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

This wasn't my home.

The woman in front of me, no matter how much I might wish otherwise, isn't my mom.

Pulling my mask back over my face, I felt the sad smile twist my lips.

"Sorry to bother you ma'am."

And with a rushing of air, I was gone.

 **Brockton Bay Police Department Central Processing**

"You think you can keep me locked in here like some kind of street punk! I'm BAKUDA! I am the greatest tinker this pisspot city has ever seen! I conquered LUNG!"

Officer Nathaniel Barnes turned down the volume on the speaker connected to the interrogation room, turning towards the plain clothed officer behind him.

"You ever seen something like this Detective?"

Taking a slow drag from his cigarette, Detective Crispus Allen stared through the glass at the now silently raving woman. She was of asian american descent with dark hair and, despite her obvious mania, a youthful and healthy appearance. Dressed in a padded smock and handcuffed to the desk, the detective was tempted to call the prison medical guys down to sedate her.

Spread out on the table on his side of the observation room, Detective Allen took in the various items which had been found on the woman. A gas mask, various lengths of wire, several intricate metal devices, small but exact in their manufacture. Like any good detective, Crispus appreciated a good mystery. Here he was presented with two of them. Mystery the first, SOMETHING has destroyed an apartment building downtown. Even now the Army was moving in to secure the area, with FBI, ATF, and Homeland Security fighting it out with those above his pay grade on who should have control of any investigation. While there had been no official statement yet, pictures were circulating online showing a solid black orb of some kind just hanging in the air.

Mystery two? The raving lunatic on the other side of his interrogation room, who was dropped off to police by a girl dressed up in a halloween costume who, according to the patrolmen, "disappeared in a shower of lighting."

Detective Allen turned to Officer Barnes, allowing his shoulders to sag for just a moment before squaring them and stubbing out his cigarette.

"Can you grab me a coffee please...I have a feeling this is going to be a long night."

 **Taylor**

Sitting in the library, the truth I suspected came rushing home. This was not my Earth. Not only were there no Capes here, but there seemed to be no Parahumans. No record of Scion, no mention of other worlds beyond various "many worlds" quantum mechanics theories. I knew that there were other Earths, our contact with Earth Aleph was proof of that. While I was no expert on the subject, I was familiar enough with the concept to know that I should never have found someone who appeared to be my mother living in what was obviously my house. Call it the butterfly effect if you want to, but the sheer number of differences between the worlds should have precluded anything resembling duplicated people, yet there were here.

The bigger question though, at least as far I'm concerned, is how do I get back? Passing between worlds….it's not the same thing as running through a wall. Did I do this under my own power? Or was it some effect of Bakuda's bomb? I could feel my stomach sink as the realization hit home. I was going to have to talk to that crazy bitch.

 **Someplace Else**

A doorway opened in mid air, allowing Alexandria to enter the room. The room itself was white, sterile. In the center of the room was a table, those seated at it acknowledging the heroines arrival with subtle nods. A slightly older woman in a white lab coat sat at the tables head, Doctor Mother. To her left sat a nondescript man in a simple button up shirt, an ink pen twirling between his fingers, the Number Man. To her left and slightly behind stood an olive skinned woman in a suit, Contessa. On Alexandria's side of the table, the hero known as Eidolon was seated, his hood pulled back from his head.

Doctor Mother cleared her throat and began to speak as Alexandria took her seat.

"Thank you all for coming. I will make this brief. Scion is missing."

Eidolon leaned forward in his seat, his eyebrows coming together in confusion.

"What do you mean gone? Misplaced gone? Dead and gone?"

Doctor Mother sat back in her chair and, with a slight turn of her head, indicated Contessa. Stepping forward, the oft silent woman addressed the group.

"Early this morning we experienced a failure of our Door network. When I went to examine the Doormaker, I found the Clairvoyant thrashing, for all intents and purposes looking as if he were having a seizure. In order to ascertain what the problem was, I allowed her to connect with me. The experience was….troubling. Still, I was able to perceive what she does, namely every Earth that we are aware of. And Scion could not be found on any of them."

The statement hung in the air. Eidolon broke the silence.

"Can she even perceive Scion?"

"Indirectly, but yes. So when I say that he could not be found, I mean that there is simply no trace of him. No sightings, no evidence of his presence or activity….nothing."

Alexandria asked the obvious question.

"There haven't been any notable changes in how the Agents are functioning, so would it be safe to assume that he is still somehow in play?"

Contessa nodded.

Doctor Mother steepled her fingers under her chin and waited until all eyes were again on her.

"In order to understand how this sudden change in behavior may impact our overall goals, Contessa was able to reach out and secure an asset for us. Numberman, if you would…"

The well dressed man rose from the table and walked over to the wall. Touching a button blended into the walls smooth, white surface, a screen illuminated. It showed a stark room with a hospital bed. A small child laid in the bed, restrained, with an I.V. placed into her left arm, a white fluid slowly dripping into her vein.

"I'd like to introduce you to Dinah Alcott."

 **Brockton Bay-Earth Bet**

Armsmaster stood in the street and stared at absolutely nothing. To the outside observer, the armored hero appeared to be lost in deep contemplation of the solid black orb which hovered above the cratered ruin of the building which, until recently, the villain Bakuda had hidden. The outside observer, as far as Armsmaster was concerned, was an uninformed idiot. Every device the tinker had at his disposal, every bit of telemitry he was able to bring to bare….told him that there was nothing in the crater. The electromagnetic spectrum, infrared, ultraviolet, sonic, atmospheric, alpha-particle decay spectrometry…..all said nothing was there.

But his eyes said otherwise.

And not his alone.

The PRT ultimately had to erect barriers to keep the curious at bay.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Armsmaster almost missed the alert from his galvanometric sensor suite. There was a shift in the flow of electrons in the area, subtle, but distinctive. A slight current was building up around the non-sphere, in a clockwise spiral. Though there was no visible change, Armsmaster swore he could detect the faint scent of ozone in the air.

 **Taylor**

The police station was a madhouse. Emergency vehicles were all over the place, smoke filled the air, and a wall had been blown out into the street. Somehow, Bakuda was awake. People had likely died….and it was my fault.

I made a quick lap around the scene, looking for a casualty collection point. Finding one set up behind an EMS trailer, I examined the triage list. Fifteen officers injured, 2 deaths, twelve individuals unaccounted for. And right there at the bottom of the list:

Doe, Jane

(Alies: Bakuda)

The enormity of the situation hit home. Bakuda was a Parahuman, a tinker who specialized in explosives of untold power and versatility. She was loose on a world where, as far as I could tell, she was one of only two powered individuals.

There was no Protectorate here.

No PRT.

Just 8 billion people who had no idea what they were in for, no procedures, equipment or know how to deal with a threat like this.

I took off running, around the block, through the neighborhood, across town. She couldn't have gotten far. I doubled back on myself, pushing harder, moving faster. The world around me slowed to a crawl, then a standstill. My world was rendered in shades of blue as I pushed harder, lighting arcing over my body. I went through sewers, ran through walls into homes and office buildings, schools and warehouses. I had to find her, I couldn't let anyone else here die because of something I had brought with me. Sweat beaded along my brow, the muscles in my legs screamed, my lungs burned as I yanked oxygen out of the air. My vision began to blacken around the edges. The world went quiet.

 **Somewhere Else**

The Entity was still. A thousand thousand parts of itself had been examined. The decision was made to expend energy in order to find the path it needed to follow in order to exploit the possible solution which had been found. Action following decision, a shard had been pulled from its host. This removal was premature, but the function of the shard was necessary. Still, the shard itself had matured in a most agreeable manner.

Centered on communication, the Entity internalized the shard and with it, reached out to the broken piece, the administrator. Once found, far outside of the boundaries of the cycle, its connection stuttering and incomplete, the Entity began broadcasting to it.

[REBOOT]

[INITIALIZE]

[CONTACT]

 **Taylor**

My vision darkened. There was a feeling of familiarity, like I had seen this before. Two immense things, swirling through the infinite blackness of space. A feeling of dread filled me, a dark foreboding. I tried to slow down, to stop, but instead the lighting surged in my veins. My perception split into a million pieces before collapsing back into a broken kaleidoscope. A golden bolt of electricity exploded out of me, disappearing into the ether.

I collapsed to the ground and was still.

Everything went dark.

 **Somewhere Else**

The Entity hovered above itself, a Golden Avatar floating over a sea of flesh.

[CONTACT]

From space a bolt of lightning crashed down and into the eldric sea. Wells of power which had seen a steady decline over 30 years of use began to refill. Arcs of current began to race over the false body, as the golden flesh darkened, turning black.

******Authors Note*****

On the subject of Armsmaster's sedative. Under normal circumstances it would have been effective for the expected duration. In this case the wonky physics/time dilation/speed force shenanigans involved in what the Flash pulled off + the exotic effect of Bakuda's bomb meant it wore off minutes after she was left with the police.


	29. Chapter 29

Ride the Lightning

Frequency 5.2

 **Taylor**

The world around me was white. Blindingly so, though for some reason it didn't hurt. I pushed myself slowly to my feet, coming to a standing position before realizing that I couldn't tell what I was standing on. Turning in a slow circle, all I could perceive, in all directions, was formless void, and the light.

"Hello!"

The sound of my voice, but strange. It was like I was hearing my voice without the need for my ears. There was no resonance to it, no echo, as if it were in fact not moving through a medium. Was I dead?

.

.

.

"Mom?"

Nothing. Nothing forever in every seeming direction. I stood still, quiet. A hand came up to my chest, pressed against the lightning bolt I wore.

Feeling.

Lubdub

Lubdub

Lubdub

My nostrils flared. Air, or something taking the place of air flowed into and out of my body with every breath. My heart continued to beat, blood moving in my veins. I had no idea where I was, but I knew one thing for sure.

I was alive.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Eyes closed, feel the spark, the current, the lightning, flowing through my veins, crawling over my muscles. My vision went gold and I shot off into the infinite distance.

I would find answers.

 **At the Edge of Everything, the Threshold, the Bleeding Edge**

To the rational mind it should not have been possible. There are theories which describe the nature of the universe. There are theories which describe the expected nature of the multiverse. On the planet Earth, on most versions of the planet Earth, these theories have been developed for centuries. The greatest minds of the human race have promulgated them, and both observational data and experimental evidence have supported them. According to those theories, this should not have been possible.

Yet for some reason, it was.

In the seeming middle of space, there was a **Wall**. The span of the **Wall** was infinity. Relative to a position in front of the **Wall** (and it was a **Wall** , never a wall), it stretched forever up, and down. It stretched forever left and right. Applied to the concept of curved space-time and taken to the logical conclusion then… the **Wall** had to encircle everything.

There was a spark of golden light in front of the **Wall**. First nothing was there, then the figure appeared. It was massive, an undulating wave of fractal surfaces, spinning in space while golden discharges crackled between them, scoring the crystalline structure and turning it black. Though there was no discernable face to the Entity, it contemplated the **Wall**. The structure was made of some indefinable material. Though the Entity had a breadth of experience which spanned hundreds of realities, nothing like it had been encountered before.

Every surface of the Entity engaged in the act of observation, cataloging the **Wall** , attempting to understand what it was perceiving. There surface was impenetrable, but it was not uniform, in no way smooth. Instead a multitude of faces were seemingly built into the **Wall**. Some existed on a scale matching the terrestrial lifeforms of the Entities currently designated test world. Some were of a size comparable to the Entity itself. Some dwarfed it entirely, being as like unto a star in their scale. Though the Entity had evolved in such a way as to limit social interaction to a series of mathematical tradeoffs, its most recent incarnation had instilled within in some rudimentary ability to understand and interpret emotions through observation.

The faces all looked terrified.

The lightning flowing through the Entity became more energetic. A storm in space, everything about it became faster, while relative time slowed to a standstill.

The Entity contemplated.

Within the span of a picosecond thousands of tendrils emerged from the Entity and struck the **Wall.** Immediately the substance of the **Wall** began to overwrite the crystalline nature of the tendrils. Current arced throughout the Entity and this change reverted. The points where the tendrils contacted the **Wall** began to smoke, darkening.

A crack began to form.

 **Taylor**

I stopped running after what felt like forever.

Or was it only a moment?

The lack of reference made the two concepts functionally the same thing. Regardless, I seemed to be in exactly the same place as when I got here.

Wherever here happened to be.

With a scream of frustration I kicked at the non-existent "ground" I was standing on.

"Feels good doesn't it?"

I whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. As far as the eye could see, in every direction, I was still alone.

"Who said that?"

A pause.

"I did."

Well that answer didn't illuminate the situation. I forced myself to calm down and to think. The voice was soft, but easily heard, seeming to come at me from every direction at once. If pushed, I would say that it was…..masculine. Considering that this voice was the first sign that I wasn't alone in this nowhere….the least I could do was talk to it.

"Where am I?"

A chuckle followed by a sigh greeted me.

"You would start with the hard stuff."

I shrugged in response.

"Sorry, I don't really have an easy mode."

Again the laughter.

"You are not wrong. To answer your question, you have entered the Speed Force."

There was emphasis placed on the last two words. I could practically hear the capitalization.

"The Speed Force? What, like gravity?"

A sense of amusement suffused the air around me.

"Not quite. Gravity is a fundamental force of the universe. In fact, it is necessary, otherwise matter couldn't coalesce in a meaningful way. The Speed Force is a meta dimension. It suffuses the entirety of the multiverse, moves about in flows that are difficult to understand while bound to linear time. If you have a mind for the classics, you could think of it as an Ouroboros."

I frowned as I worked through that statement.

"The Speed Force is a snake that eats its own tail? No wait….the Speed Force is a paradox!"

Again the feeling of amusement, though this time there may have been a hint of….pride?

"Exactly. The Speed Force exists throughout the entirety of the Multiverse. Yet, it was not there at the beginning of things, and it should be long since exhausted come the end of everything. Yet it both exists and endures."

The more this conversation went on, the more my mind seemed to be working on a problem. I wasn't there yet, but I could feel myself getting closer to an answer of some kind.

"Where does it come from then?"

All around me the space I was in began to writhe. Golden light suffused with red, the hair on my arms, my haid rising around me. I could feel shifting potentials, the smell of ozone filling my nostrils, a taste like tin in my mouth. Tiny sparks crawled along my skin. In the distance, the rumbling of thunder. I looked down at the symbol on my chest.

"The lightning?"

Again the voice.

"Run Taylor."

"Run."

And I ran.

Authors note: Huh, well this happened. Not going to commit to any kind of a schedule here, but I had a bug to write and this is what wanted to come out. The posted, intended end of this has been sacrificed upon the necromantic altar needed to bring this about. Some things from that will be used, but I am not going to hold myself to that plan.


End file.
